Remembering The Now
by elbcw
Summary: 'What about Athos' Aramis looked back down at the unconscious man. 'It's a nasty knock. A hard one. We'll just have to wait for him to wake up.' D'Artagnan could hear the worry in his voice. 'He will wake up though...won't he'
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: I've read some good amnesia stories so thought I would have a crack at it. I've done my customary five minutes of research into the main topic and have decided that the science is not fit for the purpose of my story...so I will use the 'poetic license' card. And there are some horrendous clichés - I make no apology.**

 **This is set somewhere in the second series. But I cannot remember every word of dialogue and every little detail so please forgive some inaccuracies.**

 **They are all in this, and to save you being disappointed; it's Athos who will be OOC, if you know what I mean! And as this is my story, Aramis is very much front and centre as well.**

 **I have finished the story and will post the chapters daily, subject to real life getting in the way. Please note, I work shifts so won't be able to post at the same time each day.**

Remembering the Now

Chapter One

'Is her husband away?' asked Aramis.

D'Artagnan grinned impishly, 'yes.'

'Ah, Constance,' said Aramis as he gazed off into the distance. 'I feel I have not made her angry for a while, I must be due another slap from her delicate hand.'

Porthos snorted, 'I'm sure you can annoy her soon enough.'

Athos tried to tune out the banal conversation that was going on behind him. The assignment had been long and trying. None of them had particularly enjoyed it. Escorting a prisoner to the border to hand over to the Spanish. The man's fate was known to all of them, even the poor man. He had not caused them any bother, he had not tried to escape, he had accepted that his stay in Spain would be short. He even thanked them for looking after him when they parted.

Now they were a day away from Paris. Athos looked forward to his own bed in his own rooms. He loved his brothers, but to spend any length of time with them where nothing was happening could be trying.

As they had neared Paris the conversation had inevitably turned to what each man would do when they returned. D'Artagnan had been barely able to hide his joy at being able to return to his clandestine relationship with Constance. They had each on occasion ensured her husband was distracted so that their youngest member could enjoy a few seconds with his lover. Aramis and Porthos had been gently teasing him about the relationship for a couple of days. When he had realised what they were doing he had sulked for a couple of hours before taking his frustrations out by sparring enthusiastically with them both. All three had slept well that night.

The soft bracken covering the ground muffled any noise the horse's hooves made leaving just the dull thud of their feet and his brothers conversations the only sound. His soldier's instinct had him watching keenly for any movement amongst the trees which was out of place. He saw nothing, he did not expect to, there had been no reports of villainous activity in the area. Athos wondered if a skirmish might break up the monotony of the journey. He quickly dismissed the notion. He did not wish to engage in anything that could leave one of his brother injured, or worse. A quiet monotonous journey where they all arrived safely was better than the alternative.

If they were careful and did not push the horses too much they could make Paris late that night. They had been forced to camp a few nights on their journey and had been grateful for the fair weather they had experienced.

Porthos was now explaining the finer points of a hand of cards he was once dealt. D'Artagnan was fascinated, while Aramis was near enough accusing him of lying. A thump and accompanying swearing, fortunately in Spanish, told Athos that Aramis had been put in his place. D'Artagnan was laughing at his brothers.

The card playing musketeer was describing a card game he had going in one of the local taverns. He spent some time explaining how he was sure one of the other players, a swarthy man who might as well have been a pirate, was cheating. Aramis pointed out that Porthos frequently cheated, earning himself another thump. Aramis complained that he was now damaged goods and if he was left bruised and battered his new lady would not be interested.

Athos returned his attention to his surroundings, the forest was not a particularly big one, but it was big enough, the tall straight trees dominating the view in all directions. Light filtered through with the bright sun helping to give the area an ethereal glow. Athos would not tell his brothers how beautiful he found the area, his nonchalant exterior was well maintained, he would not risk ruining it with poetic thoughts. They knew enough about his past now, too much, he sometimes thought.

His wife, the delectable Anne, was currently making quite the spectacle of herself at the Palace. He was glad that not everyone knew who she was to him. His brothers carefully avoided the subject, although he often caught Aramis glaring at her when she so obviously flirted with the King, particularly in the Queen's presence.

Athos could hear Aramis behind him now, talking about his latest conquest. A lady, he refused to name her, who was becoming besotted with him. His bravado about the relationship held a twinge of regret, but Athos was sure he was the only one who could detect it. Aramis was very good at lying which, thought Athos, was a very good thing.

Aramis was trying to explain the subtle art of seduction to d'Artagnan.

'You need to leave them wanting more,' the marksman said.

'Isn't that just mean?'

Athos was still amused by d'Artagnan occasional naivety or need to be a well behaved young man. He was surprised that Porthos and Aramis had not had more of an effect on him yet.

'I always leave a card table with everyone needing more…'cos I've got it all in my pocket.'

'Not quite the same thing Porthos,' said Aramis.

Athos shook his head as the conversations continued. He let them talk, he did not interrupt, he had nothing to say. He knew that even though they were talking and laughing between them, each man would be doing as he was, watching for potential threats. He trusted his brother implicitly.

When they reached the garrison, he hoped that Treville would give them a few hours, perhaps a day before putting them back to work. The assignment had left them all tired. D'Artagnan needed to see Constance; Porthos had a card game to get back to; Aramis had his latest conquest to woo and Athos needed some solitude. Solitude to get his thoughts back in order before he went back to the business of avoiding his wife, if he could.

The ground dropped away a little to his right. The sound of a running water mixed with the other noises of the forest. A small fast-moving stream trickled past. The rays of sunlight that were able to penetrate the forest glinted off the water.

They needed to rest and water the horses. The poetic part of Athos could not think of a more pleasant spot to stop.

MMMM

'Have you seen the state of your jacket?' asked Aramis.

D'Artagnan glanced back at his brothers. Porthos was trying to look at the back of his doublet. Aramis had moved his horse next to him and was trying to pick off something from the leather.

'What is it?'

'Thorns I think…'

As d'Artagnan dismounted and walked his horse up to the stream to drink her fill he wandered back a few paces to watch Porthos being helped out of his jacket by Aramis. Athos was watching the pair with mild amusement.

'I sometimes think they are more like a married couple…' remarked Athos quietly, 'although I have not yet worked out which of them is the wife.'

D'Artagnan struggled not to laugh out loud. Aramis was holding up the offending garment as Porthos started to pick out the thorns that had become embedded in it.

D'Artagnan thought back over the last few miles they had travelled. There had been some undergrowth that might have been responsible for the prickly thorns that had become stuck in Porthos' doublet. The horses had become a little uncooperative walking through the undergrowth and Porthos had been forced to dismount and lead his at one point. From the length of the thorns that Porthos was currently pulling out of his jacket, d'Artagnan had every sympathy with the horses.

Having handed Porthos his doublet, Aramis had grabbed both their horses reins and walked them to the stream where he left them. The horses were well trained and would not wander far.

'There's a bloody rip in the sleeve,' Porthos complained as he joined them.

'I'm sure d'Artagnan could get you a good deal for a repair at the Bonacieux residence.

D'Artagnan glanced across at Aramis who grinned back at him. Aramis' grin widened when d'Artagnan noticed that Porthos was looking at him with a hopeful expression.

'I thought you were rich at the moment with all your winnings?'

'But I stay rich by seeking out bargains where I can,' countered Porthos with a grin of his own.

'I do not think we are alone, gentlemen,' said Athos quietly.

D'Artagnan turned his full attention to their surroundings, as did Aramis and Porthos. Both he and Aramis pulled their guns. Porthos laid his hand on his sword. Athos was calmly scanning the area.

D'Artagnan wondered what had caused Athos to raise the alarm. The swordsman was always alert for the slightest thing out of place. D'Artagnan wanted to emulate the man and was slightly annoyed at himself for letting his guard drop slightly for a few minutes. Their fatigue after the long journey was no excuse when their lives were on the line.

He scanned the area. The unremarkable wood held many potential hiding places. The limited light from the sun left many shadows for a man to conceal himself. There were several dips in the ground around the trees where over the years tree roots had become exposed. The leaf litter that had built up in places created further areas for an enemy to hide themselves.

His contemplation was cut short as several men charged at them from all directions. The Musketeers had been surrounded and they had not realised. A well-executed attempt to take them down by the attacking men. D'Artagnan had no doubt that they would be the victors in the inevitable skirmish, he only hoped it did not come at a cost to any of them.

He raised his arm and calmly shot the first man who reached him. The man, of a similar age to himself wore clothing that had seen better days. D'Artagnan suspected the men attacking them were either in the pay of someone else or desperate. As the man stumbled back, dropping his sword as he did so, a look of regret crossed the man's face. D'Artagnan wondered what the man was regretting, he did not think the man was thinking of himself.

D'Artagnan had little time to wonder at the first man's background as he was set upon by a second. This man ducked out of the way of d'Artagnan's gun, which he had flipped in his hand to use as a club, an instinctive move that he did not even realise he had done. The man brought his sword up but d'Artagnan was quick to use the gun to parry the attempt to thrust the blade into his chest. As the man was forced to take a step away to maintain his balance d'Artagnan discarded his gun and drew his sword, managing to slice across his opponent's tatty doublet in the process.

He had heard at least one other gunshot and now the sound of other blades clashing around him. He knew each of his brothers was engaged in a battle of his own.

As he fought he tried to work out the reason for the attack. They were returning from their mission, they were not carrying anything of value. It was well known that soldiers were not paid well. The only thing of real value they had with them were their weapons and the horses.

The man in front of him stepped closer, disliking the proximity of his enemy d'Artagnan bodily pushed him away. He took the opportunity to glance around and assess his brothers progress.

Athos was busy with two men who were holding their own against the expert swordsman. But Athos was making the fight difficult for them, his skill with the sword probably surprising the unfortunate men.

Aramis, who must have been responsible for the second gunshot, was also lucky to now only be faced with one man. The man, of a larger build than the marksman, was making Aramis work. The brutish man was forcing Aramis to dance out of the way of several thrusts and swings of his sword. D'Artagnan noted that Aramis had yet to draw his main gauche. D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis was enjoying the challenge.

Porthos, like Athos, had two men in front of him. He was still holding his doublet and was using it to swing at the men, causing distractions. At one point, with the leather wrapped around his arm, he even smacked a sword swipe out of the way, throwing the unfortunate swordsman off balance. The man had staggered back several paces before being able to re-join the affray.

D'Artagnan's opponent was wildly swinging his sword. He watched the man for a few seconds, wondering if it was some sort of show of force. He tilted his head at the man before renewing his own show of force, which would soon prove fatal to the man.

MMMM

He had stepped away from Porthos when the warning was made by Athos. He did not want to be too close to his brothers if they had to draw their swords. Each man would need a little space to move. Instinctively he had pulled his gun, he knew the weapon was loaded and primed, ready for firing. They were soldiers on the Kings business, they were always ready for trouble. As trouble frequently found them.

The men who ran at them, were probably poor, unemployed locals, who had nothing to lose. They may not have even realised they were attacking soldiers. But attack they did, and if it came down to a choice between the strangers and his brothers or himself, Aramis would always choose his brothers.

Sending up a silent prayer he pulled the trigger, the closest man's shocked stare remained on his face as he continued forward, his legs taking their last steps as the momentum of his run was not halted completely by the ball now embedded in his skull.

A second man replaced the first. Aramis was ready for him. The big man, who carried a big sword swung it down on Aramis who did not often find himself facing a taller opponent. The brutish man was broad and heavy, leaving Aramis with the advantage of being able to sidestep his sword swings with ease.

After a brief glance around Aramis realised his brothers were all busy with their own opponents. Both Athos and Porthos were fighting two men apiece, which was not really fair when he and d'Artagnan only had one opponent each.

Aramis was surprised that Athos had not taken out either of the men he was fighting yet. He wondered if some of the men were not just desperate locals, looking to make easy money by robbing passers-by. Perhaps the two fighting with Athos were mercenaries whose sword fighting skills might be a cut above the average. Not to Athos' own skill, he was sure, but they looked pretty good. At least on a par with himself or his other brothers.

He was a little concerned about Porthos who was still batting off sword strokes with his doublet which was now wrapped around his arm. His friend had been forced a little distance from the rest of them and was now fighting on the edge of the stream, where the ground was uneven. The protruding rocks could easily trip Porthos who had his back to the stream and was steadily being forced towards it.

Aramis decided that he had toyed with the big man in front of him enough. He went on the offensive, deciding he needed to even up the odds a little.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Aramis and d'Artagnan had made the right decision readying their guns when Athos warning them that they had company. He had still been holding his damaged doublet, so only had one had free. He naturally went for his sword. As the attackers charged he drew his sword and prepared to fight. As one man flung himself towards Porthos the Musketeer whipped his doublet in front of him. The studs on the collar making an effective weapon of their own. The first man was thrown off balance giving Porthos a chance to knock the first thrust of his second attacker aside.

The second man, shorter than himself and skinny did not look like he would take much to overpower. Porthos wondered if he could neutralise the man without the need to kill him. The man's clothing was torn and worn in several places, his boots had seen better days. He was generally unkempt. It was difficult to tell how old he was due to the obvious hard life he had led.

The first man returned to the fight once he had regained his composure, he was not as thin as the other fighter, but still appeared malnourished. He was definitely older, with a wrinkled face, several scars indicated to Porthos that the man might have been a soldier or sailor who could no longer find work.

As the two men attacked him, he flicked his doublet around his hand and wrist and used it to deflect several sword strikes. The men did not have much strength compared to a swordsman in his prime.

The men had circled slightly, forcing Porthos to turn, he knew he had his back to the stream and was concerned that the ground nearer it was uneven. But as with any swordfight, movement was inevitable, he just had to try to control which direction that movement was in.

Athos was also fighting two men, he appeared to be holding his own against them, which was no less than Porthos would have suspected. Both Aramis and d'Artagnan had despatched a man each and were dealing with another.

The older man fighting him took a wild slice at his neck, Porthos ducked out of the way and as he came back up kicked out at the man catching him on the thigh forcing him back a couple of paces.

The skinny man did not take too kindly to his friend being pushed back. He went on a very violent offensive, which Porthos dealt with easily. The older man may have been an old soldier but the skinny man most certainly was not. The frenetic activity only left the man open to Porthos' well-aimed sword which was plunged into and retrieved from the man's chest in a matter of seconds. The skinny man flopped to the floor, blood pooling underneath him.

Porthos did not have time to contemplate the death as he was engaged in more fighting with the older man.

A strangled cry from one of the men fighting Athos told him that the swordsman had also evened up the odds in his favour. But where Porthos had easily retrieved his own sword Athos had to bring his foot up to push the body back. The second's delay cost Athos dearly.

The second man he was fighting was quick to kick Athos in the chest, causing the man to stumble back to the floor, letting go of his sword as he did so. As he tried to scramble up, a second quick kick to the head saw Athos limply fall back to the ground.

Porthos had no time to worry about Athos as he was still fighting his own battle. The older man had used the distraction, brief though it was, to his own advantage and took a wild swing with his sword causing Porthos to take a step back. Forgetting his position on the bank of the stream Porthos put his foot on a loose rock which moved under him causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor. He raised his doublet wrapped left arm above him and deflected a downward swing of his opponent's sword.

The man was not so easily defeated, he quickly brought the sword down a second time, only to find Porthos' own sword already plunging into his gut. As the realisation dawned on the man Porthos twisted out from underneath him. The man fell heavily beside him, the light in his eyes dimming quickly, a limp hand clutching at the sword which protruded from his stomach.

MMMM

The big man telegraphed his moves slightly, it did not take Aramis long to work out what was coming next. The man swung his arm to the side, Aramis ducked down under the sword as it arced over him. He rose and retaliated at the same time, his sword slipping between the man's ribs and deep into his chest piercing his heart. The man crumpled to the floor with little ceremony.

Aramis would find the time to pray for the man's soul later, at that moment, Athos' soul was more important. Athos soul was still with the man and Aramis wanted to keep it that way.

He had seen Athos being beaten to the ground as he pulled his sword from his opponent's chest. The man who had beaten Athos to the ground was raising his sword ready to plunge it into the unconscious man. As he moved towards the man, Aramis pulled a dagger from its place on his weapons belt. The man standing above the prone form of Athos raised his arms above his head. The man paused and looked down at his chest for a few seconds. As Aramis approached he could tell the man looked confused. The dagger impaled in his chest must have seemed out of place to the man. Aramis wondered if his last thoughts were to wonder where the dagger had come from.

As the now dead attacker fell to the floor, Aramis reached Athos. He pushed his unconscious brother onto his back. The swordsman was very still, bruising from the kick already obvious on his temple, a graze was weeping blood. Aramis decided it would only need cleaning, the injury would probably not even need to be dressed. But the obvious bump on Athos head was a worry. The man had been hit hard. Aramis did not like the look of the injury.

MMMM

D'Artagnan turned from the dead man. Aramis had finished off his large opponent and was in the process of dealing with the man who was trying to kill Athos. The marksman, with seemingly no thought at all, pulled a dagger from his belt and threw it at the man. It embedded itself in the man's chest. The man stared at the dagger for a second before staring at Aramis, who was not even looking at him. Aramis' only concern was the very still looking Athos lying at the feet of the man that he had just killed.

Looking across to the stream where he had last seen Porthos, d'Artagnan saw the Musketeer lying on the floor breathing hard, looking at his arm with a slightly confused expression.

Deciding that Athos was in good hands, d'Artagnan crossed to Porthos. He could not tell if his friend was badly injured or just trying to calm himself down after the fight. Porthos' right sleeve had rips across it, the fabric was already stained with blood. The bodies of the two men he had been fighting lay a few feet away, d'Artagnan could not work out when or how Porthos had obtained his injury.

He crouched down by Porthos who was scowling at his sleeve before pushing it up revealing a nasty graze that had broken through his skin in several places.

'You must have smashed your arm into the rock there,' said d'Artagnan nodding towards a larger rock with a rough surface. Porthos sword was lying in front of the rock.

Porthos continued to stare at his arm, 'I don't remember it happening.'

D'Artagnan held out his hand, helping Porthos to his feet. Porthos held his injured arm across his chest as d'Artagnan retrieved his sword and doublet. He looked back across to Aramis who was knelt beside Athos. The marksman was feeling along his friend's limbs and torso searching for any other unknown injuries.

Aramis looked up as they approached, he glanced at Porthos' arm.

'It's a scratch, I'll be fine,' lied Porthos.

It was clear to d'Artagnan that Aramis knew better, but he did not say anything.

'What about Athos?'

Aramis looked back down at the unconscious man.

'It's a nasty knock. A hard one. We'll just have to wait for him to wake up.'

D'Artagnan could hear the worry in his voice.

'He will wake up though...won't he?'

When Aramis did not respond, d'Artagnan knew it was a bad injury. Aramis was usually optimistic, but he was clearly worried about their leader.

Porthos had refocused himself, 'let's make camp then. We'll put all the bodies together over there,' he indicated an area just out of sight of their current position in a slight dip. 'Aramis, deal with him as best you can,' Porthos looked down at Athos for a couple of seconds before turning to d'Artagnan. 'Can you deal with the horses?'

D'Artagnan nodded.

'What about your arm?' said Aramis rising and stepping towards Porthos.

'It'll keep for a few minutes. I'll help d'Artagnan move the bodies then I'll wash it and you can do what you want with me once a fire's been lit.'

Aramis managed a smile, d'Artagnan wondered if Porthos was taking charge because he knew that he could not do anything for Athos, but Aramis could.

The activity kept them all busy for a few minutes. Due to the terrain, it took the two of them to carry each body to the allocated spot. Porthos had deliberately chosen a spot that they would not be able to see from their impromptu camp. As Porthos crouched by the stream and began to clean his grazed arm, d'Artagnan searched through the pockets of the dead men.

'They have nothing on them,' he said as he gently closed the eyes of the last man.

'We'll probably never know who they were,' replied Porthos as he wiped away the debris that had become caught in the cuts to his arm.

D'Artagnan looked across to Aramis who had taken a folded blanket from one of their saddlebags and had used it to act as a pillow for Athos.

'It's bad isn't it?' he asked quietly.

Porthos nodded, watching as Aramis used water and a cloth to clean the cuts to Athos' head.

'I think so,' was his only reply.

MMMM

'It's bad isn't it?' asked d'Artagnan quietly as he looked across towards their injured brother.

Porthos sighed, 'I think so,' he replied.

They had known each other long enough to read the subtle signs they each gave without realising it. D'Artagnan was feeling his youth, the worry of the injury to the man he saw as his mentor was bubbling under the surface. D'Artagnan could barely contain it. Porthos knew that he and Aramis had to remain calm for the younger man's sake.

It had been clear from the conversation with Aramis regarding the injury that it was serious. He would not commit to a prognosis. Aramis had limited capability as a field medic. He could deal with basic injuries, he could stabilise a man until a field surgeon could see to him, but not much beyond that.

Porthos finished cleaning the grazes on his arm, he was annoyed that he had managed to injure himself. If he had been wearing his doublet he doubted he would even have noticed he had knocked into the rock, he might have been a little bruised, but nothing that would have affected him. But the grazes were throbbing and would need to be dressed and kept clean. An inconvenience he could do without.

D'Artagnan had moved over to the horses. Porthos could hear him talking to them quietly as he took the saddlebags from them.

As he settled himself beside Aramis he noticed that the marksman had already sorted out a dressing for his injuries.

'You got nothin' else to do?' he asked.

'Not really, there really is nothing I can do for him, I'll try to get that bruising down a bit with cool cloths but…'

Aramis trailed off, Porthos could tell his friend felt a little useless.

'Then we wait,' he said.

Aramis nodded once before reaching out and taking Porthos' injured arm and inspecting the wound. Porthos watched his friend wrap the bandage around his arm carefully maintaining the balance between too tight and too loose with practised ease.

By the time Aramis was satisfied with his ministrations, d'Artagnan had joined them. He had collected some dry wood and began to create a fire.

'How long will it be before he wakes up?' asked d'Artagnan.

'There's really no way to tell,' replied Aramis as he moved a few large stones towards the fire arranging them to form an edge.

Porthos searched through their saddlebags for food. They carried limited provisions and had not planned on stopping again. He managed to rustle up enough food for the three of them. He knew there was a fair chance that when Athos awoke he would not be hungry. Porthos was pleased with himself for thinking 'when' not 'if' his friend awoke. He had seen fellow soldiers who had received head injuries never awaken. But he knew that would not be the case now. Athos would wake up.

'He has been hit on the head before…' said Aramis after a few minutes.

D'Artagnan was slowly feeding the small fire with kindling. The young man looked up at Aramis' words.

'I'm just saying,' continued Aramis, 'that he's been unconscious like this before and been fine.'

Porthos wondered if Aramis was trying to humour d'Artagnan who was obviously very worried.

MMMM

D'Artagnan was not really hungry, but he forced himself to eat. He got the impression Porthos and Aramis were doing the same thing. Aramis was changing the damp cloth he had laid over Athos' injury every so often.

The sky was darkening making the unremarkable wood take on a creepy look. The once dim areas became dark, the few shadows began to stretch. D'Artagnan found himself glancing across to the area they had left the bodies. He knew he was being foolish but being in such close proximity to the dead men did not help his feeling of unease.

Porthos and Aramis had tried to keep the conversation going but had eventually lapsed into silence. A silence that only highlighted the assorted natural sounds of the outdoors. As a farmer, he was used to the sounds of the outdoors but had never particularly enjoyed the unknown of the night-time.

A quiet groan had all three men giving the injured man lying between them their full attention.

Aramis shifted his position so that he would be in Athos line of sight. The injured man turned his head slightly and screwed up his still closed eyes.

'Athos…' said Aramis quietly reaching out and resting his hand on the other man's arm.

Another groan followed by silence for a few seconds. D'Artagnan watched silently, he noticed Porthos was keeping very still as well. It was almost as if any sudden movement would break the spell of their brothers returning consciousness.

The swordsman's eye fluttered a couple of times before he opened them fully. He looked up at Aramis but did not seem to focus on him. Athos raised his hand and tried to touch his temple, where the dark bruises stood out so starkly. Aramis caught his hand and shook his head as he gently moved it away.

'Athos, look at me…'

Athos took a couple of deeper breaths before looking at Aramis again, this time with more focus in his eyes. Athos may have been focused but he also looked confused. He stared at Aramis for several seconds before looking away. He looked up at the canopy of trees above him before turning his head the other way and finding Porthos. His confused look remained as he finally looked at d'Artagnan who managed to smile at his friend.

'How are you feeling?' asked Aramis quietly.

Athos looked back at Aramis, before pulling his arm free of the marksman's hand. Athos furrowed his brow.

When he spoke, with a quiet croaky voice they were all shocked by his words.

'Who are you?'

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Aramis had to stop himself from making any inappropriate comments. Athos was staring at him without the slightest hint of recognition. Thinking quickly Aramis knew that a knock to the head could cause the victim to awaken confused for a few minutes. Surely Athos was just a little disorientated? But his eyes were focused.

'Can you see me alright?' Aramis asked, wondering if perhaps the injury had partially blinded him.

Aramis was not sure if an answer in the positive or negative to the question would be better.

'Yes,' came the uncertain reply, 'do I know you?'

'Yes, it's Aramis,' the marksman said pointing at himself as he tried to hide the growing concern.

'Do you recognise either of them?'

Aramis pointed at Porthos and d'Artagnan.

Athos looked at his brothers again, the same confused expression remained on his face.

'No, should I recognise you all?'

Athos tried to sit up, but the action must have hurt him as he paused and screwed his eyes shut again.

'Easy, Athos, you've had a knock to the head, you've been unconscious for a couple of hours.'

Athos was breathing quickly, he allowed Aramis to push him back down to the ground, although Aramis suspected the man was in too much pain to resist him. Aramis glanced up at his brother who wore the same concerned expressions. D'Artagnan was staring at him, his eyes wide.

'Is he alright?' the young Musketeer asked quietly enough that the injured man probably did not hear him.

Aramis shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The man lying between them was clearly suffering from the effects of the injury, but Aramis did not know to what extent.

As they watched Athos calm his breathing he again opened his eyes.

'Is the headache bad?' asked Aramis, deciding that he would worry about the memory issues after he had assessed how much pain his brother was in.

'It hurts,' came the reply.

'Try to sleep,' said Aramis, 'we'll be here when you wake up.'

Athos did not reply, but his pained expression slowly lessened until it was obvious the injured man had fallen asleep.

Aramis sat back on his heels and looked at his brothers again. He suspected his own expression was as stunned as both of theirs.

Porthos whispered, 'that's temporary right?'

D'Artagnan looked between them, 'of course it is, he'll wake up in a bit and be fine. He probably won't even remember what just happened.'

Aramis wanted to agree with them both but found that he could not.

'I'm not sure...I think this might be a serious problem.'

'He's just confused,' reiterated Porthos, 'we've all been there.'

Aramis shook his head, 'but he was focused on us. When that sort of thing normally happens there an obvious lack of focus. Athos was not unfocused he looked at us each but did not know us.'

The two men looked at their sleeping brother.

'What do we do?' asked d'Artagnan.

'For now, we let him rest...it might sort itself out...I really don't know...I'm just a field medic…'

Aramis was struggling to find the words.

'You've done everything you can, and should, for him so far,' said Porthos looking across to Aramis.

Aramis nodded, hoping the man was right. He thought back over his actions immediately after the skirmish. Had he done everything he should have done? Had he missed some crucial step in dealing with a head injury? It would be the first time if he had. But it only took one mistake. What if he had somehow caused Athos to lose his memory?

They sat for another few minutes, the fire crackled a few times. D'Artagnan looked at it before picking up a stick and poking at it. Porthos sighed loudly before rising to his feet and wandering off. Aramis could hear him quietly circling their camp. They had been attacked here once, it would be unfortunate to be caught off guard again, particularly now they were down to three men.

Methodically Aramis went back to changing the damp cloth on Athos face. The injured man's brief spell of confused consciousness had left him with a sheen of sweat across his face. Aramis gently wiped the sweat away, wishing he could take the head injury away as easily. He decided he would give his injured brother a little longer to sleep before rousing him. With Porthos patrolling their perimeter and d'Artagnan distracted by the fire Aramis pulled his jewelled cross from his neck, he kissed it before saying a quiet prayer. He knew his brothers may not have believed as fervently as he did, but he doubted they would object to the sentiment. Aramis was willing to accept any help he was given to restore their brother to them as he should be.

MMMM

When Porthos returned and settled in the same place as before and d'Artagnan discarded his stick, Aramis glanced at them both. Porthos nodded to him, d'Artagnan did not react, the younger man still carried a worried look on his face. Aramis leaned forward and shook Athos shoulders.

Athos opened his eyes more decisively than the last time. Again, he stared at Aramis with no hint of recognition.

'Athos,' said Aramis quietly, 'how is the pain?'

Athos appeared to think for a moment before responding.

'I don't know who you are…'

Aramis was aware of Porthos reaching out and putting his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

'That's alright Athos,' continued Aramis, 'we're not going to hurt you. I just want to know that you're feeling better. Can you tell me how bad the pain is?'

Athos looked at him sceptically.

'It hurts. Was I hit by something?'

'Yes Athos, you were hit. You hurt your head.'

Athos managed a small nod of understanding.

'Is that my name?' he asked. 'Athos?'

D'Artagnan had to stifle a gasp.

'Yes, it is,' said Aramis, 'you hit your head and you've lost your memory.'

Aramis paused for a moment, he was unsure what to say to his friend.

'Can you remember anything?' asked Porthos.

Athos looked across to him. He stared at Porthos for a few moments before responding. Aramis wondered what his friend was thinking, wondered what it was like to find that you did not know who you were, surrounded by people you did not know.

'No,' Athos said, 'sorry, I don't know you...or me.'

Athos seemed so lost, so unsure. Aramis had never seen his friend in such a state before. It was unnerving.

'Can I sit up?'

'Of course, let me help you, take it slowly,' said Aramis, pleased to be able to do something.

He supported Athos back as the man slowly pulled himself up, d'Artagnan had his hand on Athos' other shoulder.

Porthos handed him the waterskin. Athos looked at it a little confused.

'It's water,' reassured Porthos.

Hesitantly Athos took the skin and drank, he handed it back to Porthos before slowly looking around himself.

'Do you recognise anything?' asked d'Artagnan.

Athos slowly shook his head, 'I'm sorry, I really don't.'

Aramis watched as Athos slowly looked around again, he blinked a few times.

'Are you tired? It's not unusual with a head injury, you should sleep a bit longer.'

Athos nodded, he looked at them each again.

Porthos said, 'you don't know it, but we're your friends and we ain't going anywhere. You're safe.'

Aramis steadied Athos as he lay back down. D'Artagnan passed him a blanket which they threw over the injured man who had already closed his eyes. It did not take long for Athos to fall asleep again.

Aramis waited a few minutes until he was sure Athos was asleep before looking back up at his brothers.

'As I said before, I'm only a field medic. He may yet wake up after a few hours of rest and be fine again-'

Porthos interrupted him, 'may be fine.'

Aramis shook his head, 'I don't know, I hope, I pray, he'll be alright, but I really don't know.'

Aramis paused, he looked at Athos, then at d'Artagnan and Porthos before speaking again.

'This might be permanent.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan stood up suddenly. He did not say anything he merely turned away from them and walked off. Porthos watched him go. The young man stopped at the point the light from the fire diminished so that he would not be able to see the ground properly. D'Artagnan put one hand against a tree before leaning over. They could hear him throwing up.

Porthos looked back at Aramis. He had not realised how pale the marksman had become.

'Are you alright?' he asked.

Aramis looked back at him and shook his head, 'did I do something wrong when I treated him...did I cause this?'

Porthos knew the indecision and self-doubt was understandable in his friend. They all trusted him with their lives when it came to injuries in battle, occasionally that was a lot of trust to be placed in one man's hands. Despite how capable Porthos knew Aramis to be.

'You did everything right,' he said with a reassuring smile.

'You're right, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, this is a shock for us all. I can't imagine how we are going to deal with this...what if the memories never come back?'

Porthos looked back across to d'Artagnan who appeared to have recovered somewhat and had started a slow walk around the edge of their camp. He reached a fallen tree and sat down heavily on it, staring out into the darkening night.

'We'll stay here for the rest of the night. If he's able to ride in the morning I think we should head back to Paris as soon as possible.'

Porthos spoke decisively, Aramis nodded, 'I agree. He can ride with one of us...but memory loss is strange, he may remember how to ride...we won't know until he's in less pain and can start to do things.'

'He looked confused by the waterskin,' remarked Porthos.

Aramis nodded, 'it may take a while to find out what he does and doesn't know.'

'Or,' said Porthos, 'he may wake up in a couple of hours and have a go at us all for worrying about him unnecessarily.'

'Let's hope so,' replied Aramis.

Porthos noted the optimism in his friend's voice.

MMMM

D'Artagnan straightened up after throwing up what little food he had in him. He caught his breath and started to walk around the camp, keeping to the point where the glow from the fire stopped lighting the ground. Once Athos had fallen asleep again d'Artagnan found he was struggling to remain calm. When Aramis had intimated the memory-loss might be permanent d'Artagnan knew he could not stay where he was. He was not surprised when he threw up. He felt a little embarrassed, but he knew his brothers would not say anything. He suspected they were struggling to contain themselves as well.

He did not know what to think. Should he be hopeful that Athos would regain his memory, and all would be well? Or should he prepare himself for the worst? Should he prepare himself for the loss of the man he looked up to?

Realising he was shaking slightly he sat down on a fallen tree trunk. He sat with his back to the camp. He stared off into the wood. The sounds of the night time, the sounds of creatures going about their nocturnal business suddenly seemed to be deafening. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in hands. He sniffed. He had not even realised he had tears in his eyes. He did not want Aramis and Porthos to see him crying. He was a soldier, a Musketeer, he should not be crying.

But Athos could be gone.

The man they all knew might not exist anymore. The poor soul currently lying injured at the centre of their camp was not Athos.

Much as he liked to pretend he was on a par with the rest of the inseparables he knew he was still learning. He had been a commissioned Musketeer for barely a year. Athos was still finding ways that he could improve his sword work. Were there to be no more lessons?

He was aware of one of his brothers approaching him.

'There is nothing wrong with feeling upset,' said Aramis as he sat beside him, a reassuring hand on his back.

D'Artagnan sniffed, he wiped his eyes and sat up. Aramis moved his arm to rest across d'Artagnan's shoulders pulling him towards him slightly. D'Artagnan allowed himself to be held by the older man, wondering if the action was as much for Aramis' benefit as his own.

'This is a shock for us as well-'

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan, 'you've known him longer…'

'No, d'Artagnan, that's not what I mean. I mean...I mean…'

Aramis trailed off, d'Artagnan could tell the marksman was struggling with his own emotions.

They sat in silence, the night creatures continued their activity unaware of the unfolding drama in the clearing near their territory.

'It could have been any one of us,' said Aramis after a while.

'But it was him,' replied d'Artagnan.

Not that he would have wished the injury on either Aramis or Porthos, or even himself. But Athos was the one that led them. He led with a subtlety that was barely noticeable, he hardly did anything a normal leader would do, but he was still in charge.

'It was him,' repeated Aramis.

D'Artagnan sighed, 'if he doesn't remember...what should we do?'

The thought of losing Athos, the man they all knew, was abhorrent, but there was still a man lying injured a few yards away.

'We'll work that out as we go along.'

They continued to stare out into the now complete darkness of the wood.

MMMM

Authors note: The next chapter will go up (work commute permitting) at around 1600 on Monday as I am on an early shift – bit of a wait, sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Porthos watched Aramis and d'Artagnan talking at the edge of their camp. He could not hear the conversation, but he could well imagine what the two men were talking about. They were all thinking it. Athos might be gone. The man lying in front of him might not be Athos anymore. But, thought Porthos, they owed it to Athos to look after the man he seemed to have become. This man, who did not know them, might only be a temporary visitor to their lives. They needed to keep that thought in their minds. The memory loss might be temporary.

It would be temporary.

Porthos was determined not to give up hope. But equally he would not ignore the fact that they had to deal, even if only for a while, with the confused, probably scared man who was lying in front of him.

Athos stirred again. He opened his eyes and looked at Porthos.

'Can you help me to sit up please?'

'Of course,' replied Porthos.

He could not help wondering what sort of personality this stranger had. Was this empty Athos going to be similar to their friend? Or of a completely different disposition to Athos?

Athos looked around for a few seconds.

'Where are the others?'

Porthos stared at Athos for a second. Others?

Hopeful, Porthos asked the question, 'who?'

'The other two, the young man and the one who was treating me?'

Porthos let out a sigh, he had hoped, even prayed for a second, that Athos was back, looking for his brothers. But no, the injured man could only remember the young man and the medic, not d'Artagnan and Aramis.

Porthos nodded towards his brothers.

'D'Artagnan needed a moment...Aramis is just checking he's alright.'

'D'Artagnan,' said Athos as if he was trying the word for the first time. Athos said the name slowly sounding each syllable as he did so. A word that tripped so easily from his tongue normally now seemed wrong.

'D'Artagnan is the younger one. Aramis is the older one.'

'And you?' asked Athos as he looked at Porthos.

'Porthos.'

'And I'm Athos,' he said pointing to himself.

'Yes,' replied Porthos, 'we're Musketeers...soldiers...you're a Musketeer.'

'A Musketeer?'

Athos looked stunned. Porthos was struggling to work out how to react. The man he had known for years, one of his best friends was now a stranger.

'Yes...do you understand what a soldier and a Musketeer are?'

The man knew some things but not others, it was difficult to know where to pitch the conversation. Porthos did not want to talk to Athos as if he were a child, but it was difficult to work out what the man knew.

'Yes...It's odd, I know things but not who I am or who you are...or anyone.'

Porthos watched as Athos thought for a moment. The man looked around again, he looked at Aramis and d'Artagnan for a few seconds. The two Musketeers were still sat with their backs turned quietly talking. Porthos guessed that Aramis was trying to reassure d'Artagnan. But what reassurance could the marksman give?

'I'm sorry.'

'What for?' asked Porthos, looked back at Athos with confusion.

'It's obvious that Athos is important to you...but I'm not him...am I?'

Porthos shook his head, he did want the injured man to feel that he was in the wrong place.

'Yes you are...and we will see that you are looked after.'

Athos, who had started to look a little worried visibly relaxed.

'Sorry,' he said, 'my head, it's not as bad as it was, but I think I need to lie down again.'

Porthos nodded and helped his friend to lie down. It was not long before he was sleeping again. Porthos watched him for a few seconds pondering their brief exchange.

It seemed to him that the man Athos had become following the injury may have been different, but was still concerned for his brothers. He had worked out that Athos meant a lot to them all and felt bad for depriving them of him.

Aramis and d'Artagnan quietly rejoined him.

'What did he say?' asked d'Artagnan as he settled down.

Porthos could tell the younger man had been crying, he would not mention the moment of perceived weakness, he knew that Aramis and himself had been just as shocked at the result of the injury to Athos.

'He asked where you were, I thought for a moment that he was back to normal...but he was only remembering you from when he was last awake. He wanted to know our names.'

Aramis said, 'that means he can make new memories at least, which is something.'

The marksman was trying to sound hopeful. Porthos did not mind. Any hope was a good thing, thought Porthos. The man lying between them was almost childlike. His initial confusion had given way to worry. The man had been looking around as they talked, Porthos had wondered what his friend was expecting to see.

If, as Aramis was intimating, they had lost Athos, what would the man they had been left with be like?

MMMM

An uneasy night passed. They took it in turns to sit with Athos, who slept fitfully, and to make slow turns around the perimeter. When not patrolling or watching Athos they tried to sleep. Aramis found the act difficult and ended up just lying listening to every tiny sound. Each time Athos came around whoever was sat with him was hopeful that he would be back to normal. Every time their hopes were dashed.

Athos complained less and less about the pain in his head as the night wore on. Aramis urged him to continue to rest, pointing out that none of them were going anywhere until it was light anyway. Athos seemed to be worried that he was going to hold them up. That he was a burden too them. The man was more concerned each time he woke up. Aramis did not know what to say to him.

If Athos' memory were to never return, he wondered what the man would do? They did not yet know what he was capable of. The morning would hold some interesting moments, Aramis was sure.

He managed to sleep for a couple of hours, the sound of a quiet conversation woke him as the sunlight was again filtering through the dense canopy of trees above. They were all too exhausted to have broken camp at dawn, and Aramis suspected when Porthos and d'Artagnan had seen that he had finally fallen asleep they probably left him to rest. Aramis was grateful.

As he sat up he found a piece of bread being held out to him by d'Artagnan.

'Thank you,' he said as he took the offered food.

He looked around as he chewed on the slightly stale offering. Athos was on his feet and with Porthos next to him had wondered to the edge of the camp to deal with his morning ablutions. The two men were currently crouched by the stream. Athos was watching Porthos wash, before copying his actions.

'Are we going to have to teach him really simple things?' asked d'Artagnan quietly as he watched Athos mimicking Porthos.

Aramis sighed, 'I don't know. From what Porthos said about their conversation yesterday, Athos does not know that he is a soldier. Perhaps he does not understand what people do when they camp.'

'What about getting him back to Paris?'

'If he can remember how to ride a horse I think we should let him, provided his head is not still causing him a problem,' replied Aramis.

They continued to watch, as the two men finished Athos pointed at the bandage on Porthos' arm. Porthos appeared to be explaining to him how he came about the injury and was pointing about the area. When Porthos pointed in the direction of the bodies Athos stared in shock for a few seconds before backing away from Porthos.

Porthos noticed and took a few steps forward, grabbing Athos arm. The two men continued to talk for another couple of minutes. Athos relaxed as Porthos continued his explanation. Athos nodded before making what looked like an apology. Porthos shook his head and indicated for them to return to the centre of the camp.

'I'm sorry,' said Athos as he reached them, 'Porthos has quite the way with words, his description of the fight you...we...had was quite bloodthirsty.'

Aramis could see Porthos, who was still behind Athos shrug his shoulders in disbelief.

'What?' asked Athos looking back at Porthos.

'I was just telling you what happened, I didn't embellish it.'

Aramis realised that what they thought was normal would be new and strange to Athos in his current state. Thier friend had become quite vulnerable and possibly a liability.

'I think we should get ready to leave,' said Aramis as he began to gather his belongings.

Without a word, Porthos and d'Artagnan followed suit. Athos stood and watched them for a few seconds.

'What should I do?' he asked, concern in his voice again.

D'Artagnan had already picked up Athos' saddlebags. He handed them to the injured man before bending to pick up his own.

'Help me with the horses,' he said, 'we need to know how you are around them.'

'They're magnificent beasts,' remarked Athos as the two walked across the camp.

Aramis turned to Porthos who was watching them as well. Porthos glanced at Aramis and shook his head.

'Sorry, I...I just explained what happened, I told him what we did. I thought he was going to pass out, or run away. He looked scared of me.'

'We are going to have to be careful with him. If he gets scared by a description of a skirmish I hate to imagine what he would be like in an actual fight.'

Porthos nodded, 'one of us needs to be in charge of him, surreptitiously, at all times. We'll rotate.'

Aramis nodded his agreement. After ensuring the fire was fully out they walked to the horses. Athos was talking quietly to his own. D'Artagnan had taken a couple of steps back and was watching.

'He went straight to his horse. The horse knows him. He's put the bags on and checked the tack as if he does it every day. It's weird, I don't think he realises that he's done it,' said d'Artagnan quietly.

Porthos approached Athos, being careful to do so from the side. Aramis suspected Porthos was worried that Athos was going to run away if he was startled. After a brief conversation, they moved to stand beside the horse. Athos allowed Porthos to help him to mount up. The man gathered the reins and patted the horse's neck. Athos looked confident on the horse.

Aramis mounted up next to him and looked across.

'You must tell us if you feel ill, or your head gets any worse,' he said.

Athos nodded, 'there's still pain, but it's better than it was.'

'We'll go slowly, if you feel unsure, let us know, you can always ride with one of us,' said d'Artagnan as he moved his own horse up to the other side of Athos.

'Thank you,' replied Athos, 'but I'd like to try on my own.'

Aramis hid a smile; his friend had almost replied in a very typical Athos manner. Perhaps he was still in there somewhere. Could Aramis allow himself a tiny ray of hope?

They moved off, away from the scene of the fight. Away from the loss of the Athos they knew.

Athos looked about himself, he seemed to be taking in all the surrounding area. Aramis saw that Athos spent time studying each of them. He appeared to change his riding style according to whichever of them he was observing. Eventually, Athos settled with a style that was a mixture of them all, it was not quite his own style though thought Aramis sadly.

But that tiny ray of hope was going to remain with Aramis, nonetheless.

MMMM


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: As the last chapter is quite short, I'll let you have two today. Thanks for all the comments so far. 😊

Chapter Five

Another bright day meant Treville had set himself up at a small table on the veranda outside his room. He was able to keep a subtle eye on the comings and goings within the garrison. He was expecting his four best men back at any moment. It had not been pleasant to send them on the assignment. Particularly when the political prisoner they were escorting to an almost certain execution was so polite to them all and accepting of his fate.

The long journey to the border and back would have left his men tired. Treville intended to give them a couple of days leave before he put them back to normal duties. Although he doubted the men would take the leave, they would each find themselves jobs that needed doing regardless.

He had managed to send out several of the cadets with a handful of commissioned men on a brief training exercise. But he knew that there were important visitors due at the Palace in the next couple of weeks and he would not be able to spare his men for additional training. There was a fair chance he would be required to press the cadets into patrols and guard duty. Treville sighed, he had a busy couple of weeks ahead of him.

Taking an idle moment away from the laborious paperwork Treville stood, he stretched his back for a few seconds before leaning his forearms on the balustrade. The stable boys were busy rubbing down a couple of horses across the yard. In the distance, he could hear the sound of muskets being fired, with regimented regularity. Some swords were clashing periodically out of sight. The cadets who had not gone on the training exercise were busy practising and improving. The sounds were comforting to Treville.

The sound of four horses entering the yard was also a comfort, his men had returned. With a smile, he looked down at them. His smile faltered. It was clear from the men's demeanour that something was wrong.

Athos was sporting obvious bruises to his head. He was riding alone, Treville concluded that the head wound was not causing him too much pain. But it was the swordsman's actions that drew Treville's attention.

Athos was looking around the yard. He had not led the rest of the men in as he would normally have done. He was riding next to Aramis. Porthos had led the men in. Athos did not appear to know where he was.

Treville slowly started to walk towards the stairs his eyes on his men as he went. D'Artagnan dismounted and helped Athos down, keeping a steadying hand on the man's arm for a second.

Athos continued to look about himself, looking up at the buildings around him and across the yard at the stables. He looked in the direction that the firing muskets could be heard.

With a sinking feeling, hoping that he was wrong, Treville knew what had happened to his man.

As he walked towards his men he noticed Aramis glance towards him. Subtly the marksman held up his hand, requesting Treville to stop his approach. Trusting his men to know what they were doing Treville paused.

Porthos joined Athos and d'Artagnan as they walked towards the mess. Aramis watched them go before handing his horses reins to the waiting stable boy. He sighed, looked at the ground for a few seconds before turning to Treville and closing the gap between them.

'How bad is it?' asked Treville his gaze on the door to the mess.

'Bad,' was the marksman's simple reply.

Treville looked at Aramis expectantly. Did he really want to hear the report from his field medic?

'There was a skirmish, he was kicked. He was unconscious for a while. When he came around he had no memory of us…' Aramis paused for a moment. 'He has no memory at all. He doesn't even know himself. There's been no sign of his memories coming back.'

Treville looked towards the stables for a moment.

'He seemed confident on the horse.'

'Yes, he didn't have an issue with riding, he knew how to deal with the tack...but he knows nothing of soldiering. It's...I've...I've seen memory loss before, but not to this extent. I don't know what we can do...If there is anything we can do.'

Treville had every sympathy for Aramis, 'I'm sure you did everything you should have done.'

Aramis nodded, 'I don't think there was much I could do…'

'What do you propose we do now?' asked Treville trusting that Aramis would have already been thinking ahead.

'I'd like to talk to Lemay. He's quite progressive in most of his thinking. He will know more about this than I.'

Treville nodded, the court physician was a good man who had helped them before. He knew the man would gladly help them, if he could.

Aramis had not finished, 'I have heard that taking a person who has memory loss to places that should be familiar to them can help…I have no idea if that is wishful thinking or not, but...'

Treville nodded, 'but it is worth a shot,' he said.

Aramis looked back at the door to the mess before speaking again, 'could we have a couple of days? Can you spare us?' he asked.

Treville made some mental calculations. He had planned on giving the four of them a couple of days leave anyway, he nodded.

'Do what you think will help. We can regroup in two days' time. If there is no change we will decide what to do then.'

'Thank you, Captain,' replied Aramis as he turned to go.

'And whatever happens, we will deal with it.'

Aramis nodded again as he walked from the garrison. Treville was not entirely sure that Aramis was not blaming himself, despite there clearly being nothing the man could have done. Deciding that it would be best to leave Athos in Porthos and d'Artagnan's care for the time being Treville returned up the stairs. If he was needed he would make himself available.

MMMM

Porthos knew the garrison would be quiet when they returned. It would have been difficult to deal with Athos when the garrison was full of people greeting them and asking how they were. Athos would no doubt have been overwhelmed.

They had spent the remainder of the journey back to Paris talking about general things. Aramis had said they should not bombard Athos with questions. Athos, in turn, did not ask questions about himself or them. It was obvious he was having enough trouble making sense of what he already knew. Porthos had spotted him fiddling with his pauldron a couple of times when he thought they were not looking. His weapons were carefully stowed away with d'Artagnan's kit.

D'Artagnan had talked generally about the farming land they passed; Athos had been interested but had shown no knowledge. Porthos had briefly talked about the Court of Miracles and some of the other less salubrious areas of Paris; Athos had made it quite clear he had no intention of going near such places. Aramis had talked about the weapons they each carried, and the others they used, even going through the steps of loading and firing a musket; Athos had listened, but his expression had shown no comprehension of the weapon Aramis had described.

As they had entered Paris, Porthos had moved ahead of the others as Aramis and d'Artagnan closed ranks beside their injured brother. Aramis was close enough to take the reins and lead Athos' horse if needs be. They did not want Athos to become startled and veer off with the horse.

Porthos had been relieved when they turned into the garrison gateway.

D'Artagnan led them into the mess. Athos held the door for Porthos before turning to look at the room properly. Fortunately, it was empty apart from Serge pottering around at the back, laying out some food for any men who required a midday meal. Athos stood a few feet from the door looking around, taking in the tables and shelves, the wear and tear. Porthos watched him for a second, trying to see any hint of recognition.

Athos made eye contact with him, Porthos almost looked away feeling ashamed for staring at his friend.

'I'm sorry, Porthos,' said Athos, 'I don't know this place.'

Porthos managed a smile, 'that's alright.'

'You lot are early,' moaned Serge, from across the room.

Athos took a step back as the older man advanced towards them, a hefty knife held in his hand. Serge was pointing the knife at them as he spoke. D'Artagnan intercepted the former soldier and turned him around leading him back a few paces talking to him quietly. Porthos saw the change in the man's demeanour, the arm holding the knife dropped, his shoulders slumped slightly.

As the quiet conversation continued Porthos led Athos to a table and pulled out a chair for him. Obediently Athos sat down. He sat neatly with his hands in his lap and continued to look around the room. Porthos wondered if Athos' new personality was anything like he had been in his younger days? Or was it a defence mechanism, to remain quiet and watchful of everything?

'That's Serge, our cook. He's a bit brusque occasionally but he has a good heart and he looks out for us all,' said Porthos, finding it odd having to introduce a man that Athos had known for years.

Serge looked over at Athos and smiled, he put the knife down on the nearest table and walked over. He wiped his hands on his apron, which already bore the marks of the days food preparation.

'He says,' said Serge pointing back at d'Artagnan, 'that you've 'ad a bump on the head.'

Athos nodded slowly and glanced at d'Artagnan who smiled reassuringly.

'I've heard that people who are struggling to remember things should be reminded of things they like...so I'm gonna make your favourite meal.'

Athos nodded again, 'what's my favourite meal?'

Serge, who had been leaning forward slightly, stood up straight, 'you've always been partial to my mutton stew.'

Serge spoke with a confidence that Porthos did not share. Athos was not a lover of food, he was a lover of wine. Serge was, perhaps, a little deluded as to what Athos liked. Porthos wondered if Athos had complimented their cook at some point out of genial politeness and Serge had taken it to mean that the swordsman had enjoyed the food. Either way, Serge was doing what he could.

'But for now, there's bread and cheese and a few bits of leftover meat,' he said nodding toward the table at the back of the room. 'I need to get some bits for the stew.'

Serge bustled out of the room muttering to himself about out of season vegetables. As he closed the door d'Artagnan pulled out a chair to join Athos and Porthos at the table.

'Sorry,' said the young Musketeer, 'he means well.'

'I'm sure he does,' remarked Athos, 'but I have no idea what mutton tastes like, will I remember it when I eat it?'

Porthos sighed, 'that's the problem, ain't it,' he said, 'we don't know.'

Athos blinked a few times and tried to stifle a yawn. Porthos glanced at d'Artagnan who looked concerned.

'Sorry,' Athos said, 'I...feel tired again. The ride and... all this...it's...quite a lot to take in. The city, it's very busy…'

'You need to rest,' said Porthos.

As he spoke he realised that they now faced the problem of where to let Athos sleep. It was not really appropriate to take him to the infirmary, the room could be needed for an emergency, which would do nothing for the slightly on edge state that Athos was constantly in. Athos' own rooms were too far from the garrison, the thought of making the poor man walk through the city again so soon felt cruel to Porthos.

'There's a spare bed in your room, isn't there?' said d'Artagnan who must have been thinking along the same lines.

'Well really it's his bed,' replied Porthos.

Athos looked confused when Porthos had indicated him.

'You used to share a room with Aramis and me. But you took rooms in the city...you...er...wanted some space.'

Athos looked a little surprised, 'didn't we get on very well?'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'yes we all get on very well, but sometimes people need a little time to themselves. You're the sort of person who enjoys a little solitude.'

'Why?'

D'Artagnan looked at Porthos. Porthos did not know how to respond either. To explain the reasons for Athos' need for space would take a while, and even then, they did not know all the details.

Athos sensed the unease his question had created.

'It's alright. I'm sure there will be time to explain what I'm like...to me,' he paused, smiling, 'it must be difficult for you all. You've lost your friend and you're stuck with a stranger...who can't even look after himself.'

Athos smiled. Porthos was still struggling to come to terms with the potential loss of their brother. And this stranger in his friend's body was smiling at him.

'I'll take you up there,' said d'Artagnan rising from the table, 'you can sleep for a few hours, and then you can try the delights of Serge's mutton stew.'

MMMM


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The door to Lemay's rooms at the Palace was ajar. The court physician was sat at his desk pouring over an assortment of papers. Aramis could see the man from some distance as he walked along the corridor. Lemay seemed oblivious to his approach.

Aramis had been fortunate when he arrived at the Palace to not run into any of his fellow Musketeers. He was in no mood to speak to the other men, as he would have had to tell them about Athos' condition. Aramis was not ready to share the information, it would feel too real if he were to tell anyone else. He knew he was going to find talking to Lemay difficult, but at least he might be able to help or offer them some advice.

Aramis was also pleased not to be intercepted by Marguerite, the woman would have wanted to spend some time with him. Particularly after such a long time apart. And whilst Aramis yearned to see his son, and seeing Marguerite generally guaranteed a chance for that to happen, he knew that baby Louis was in safe hands. Athos, however, had a very uncertain future.

He reached the door, Lemay was still looking closely at his papers. The room was cluttered, with open books spread across his desk. Lemay appeared to be making notes on a piece of paper which was smudged with ink stains. The doctors swooping handwriting was already scrawled across several sheets. The cuff of his white shirt was stained with the ink. Several candles were lit and scattered across the desk haphazardly throwing extra light onto his work. For a man who worked methodically and apparently with order, his office was anything but.

Aramis knocked lightly on the slightly open door. The doctor looked up.

'Aramis,' he said, surprise evident in his voice, 'is anything wrong? Am I needed?'

Lemay pushed his chair back and stood up. Aramis raised his hand and shook his head, urging the man to retake his seat.

'No one is in urgent need of your assistance...at least I don't think you can cure this quickly,' said Aramis.

Lemay slowly retook his seat looking at Aramis with curiosity.

'Then what can I help you with?'

'It's Athos,' said Aramis, 'he was injured yesterday in a skirmish. He took a nasty blow to the head and he…' Aramis paused for a moment.

Aramis realised he did not want to say the words. Did not want to make the situation a reality.

Lemay furrowed his brow. He rose from his seat again and after walking around his desk he pulled up a chair and indicated for Aramis to sit. Aramis did so, realising he needed to. Lemay pulled a second chair across the room and sat opposite him.

'His memory?' Lemay asked.

Aramis nodded, looked at his hat which he was holding on his lap.

Lemay seemed to realise that Aramis was struggling to contain himself, to keep his emotions in check. The toll of the last day catching up with him, now that he was away from his brothers, away from Athos.

'Can he remember anything?'

Aramis looked up, 'he's made new memories, but he didn't know any of us. Or himself.'

Lemay thought for a moment, 'I have read about differing levels of amnesia, but I have never dealt with one of this severity. How is he otherwise? Is the head injury all he sustained?'

'A few bumps and bruises, but we all got knocked about a little...he knew how to ride...but knows nothing of life as a soldier.'

Aramis watched Lemay as the doctor again thought about what he had been told.

'Did any of you know Athos before he became a soldier? Is it possible he has reverted back to how he was a few years ago?'

Aramis shook his head, he could only think of one person who knew Athos before he was a soldier and he had no intention of talking to her.

'A shame,' said Lemay, 'what have you tried so far? I've heard that visiting places that the afflicted person will be familiar with can help to jog the memories.'

'He's at the garrison now with Porthos and d'Artagnan. He has no recollection of the place or the people he has met so far. We intend to take him out into the city tomorrow, show him his rooms and various places.'

Lemay nodded, 'I think that would be a good start...I've also heard that giving the afflicted person a nasty shock can work, but I don't know what kind of shock.'

Aramis was slightly taken aback by the suggestion, 'I'm not sure I want to try that, at least not to start with.'

Lemay smiled, 'I agree, but it might be worth keeping in mind. Would you like me to see him?'

'If you don't mind, I'd like to wait a couple of days for that.'

'Of course, my door is always open for you and your friends,' said Lemay, 'let me know how you get on.'

As they both stood up, Lemay reached across and squeezed Aramis arm, a simple act of solidarity welcomed by the marksman.

MMMM

D'Artagnan looked out of the small window down towards the garrison yard. Some of the men were returning. He watched them walking or riding through the gate in small groups. He wondered if word was getting around that Athos had been injured. He wondered if they knew that Athos, as they had known him, was gone. D'Artagnan wanted to remain positive, as Aramis at least appeared to be, but he was finding it difficult. Outwardly he had tried to be supportive to Athos, but it was difficult. Athos was now a stranger to them. The man sleeping on the spare bed behind him was not Athos. D'Artagnan did not know the man.

With a sigh, he turned from the window and looked back at Athos. He had taken his pauldron and doublet off, along with his boots before stretching out on the bed. The man had been asleep within a few minutes. D'artagnan had stepped outside of the room for a few minutes to get some air but otherwise had remained by his side. He did not want the man to awaken alone.

D'Artagnan looked around his friend's room, the room was uncluttered, soldiers had few belongings. Furnished in a similar fashion to the one he shared with two of the other Musketeer; two large trunks sat along one wall, with a chest of drawers between them. A small table with chairs, along with the three beds the only other furniture. The only indication as to which bed belonged to Aramis was the simple wooden cross above it. A well-read book sat on the small table beside Porthos' bed.

When he had stepped out of the room two hours before Treville had wandered over to him. D'Artagnan had explained that Athos was sleeping. Treville had sensed the despondency in d'Artagnan and urged him not to give up hope yet.

Afterwards, d'Artagnan had thought about his Captains words; not to give up hope, yet.

Yet.

Would there come a time when they would have to give up, to accept that Athos was gone. D'Artagnan suspected he would spend much of the next few days wondering if his friend was gone?

'I suspect,' said Athos quietly, 'that you are hoping I will be back to normal each time I wake up?'

D'Artagnan found it difficult not to react to the question. He had not realised Athos was awake and watching him, he had become lost in thought.

'Sorry,' he replied, 'but yes, I am, we are, hoping it.'

'I think I'd like it as well.'

Athos sat up swinging his legs off the bed, he grabbed his boots and pulled them on.

'How are you feeling now?' asked d'Artagnan.

'A lot better, thank you,' replied Athos with a smile.

D'Artagnan still found it odd to see Athos smile so brightly, it was not as if the man did not smile, it just did not happen often. Athos was a quiet, brooding type. He always seemed to have more on his mind than most. Over the time he had known the man, he had gradually learned some of the things that troubled him. This Athos, the one that was looking at him now, did not have those memories to bring him down. This man was empty of the memories that troubled him.

'How long have you been a Musketeer for?' asked Athos. 'I don't know how long I may be like this for, I may be like this forever...so I should probably get to know you and,' he paused for a moment looking off into the distance, trying to find the words, 'Aramis and Porthos.'

D'Artagnan smiled back, this Athos was far friendlier than he was used to.

'It's quite a long story, but I will tell you...you never know it may help you remember…'

Athos nodded, 'it might.'

D'Artagnan grabbed one of the chairs from the table and pulled it over to the bed, he sat down. After taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts he told Athos how they had met. How he had challenged him to a duel. How Athos had been arrested and condemned to die for crimes he had nothing to do with.

Athos listened attentively, but as before, showed no sign of recognition.

As d'Artagnan finished, Athos looked at him quizzically, 'am I really considered one of the best swordsmen in the Musketeers?'

'Yes,' replied d'Artagnan with a nod.

Athos looked a little confused, 'I can't even imagine doing things like that. When Porthos had talked me through the skirmish you,' he corrected himself, 'we, had yesterday I couldn't believe that I had done those things.'

D'Artagnan stood and moved the chair to the wall, he drew his sword and held it out, grip first, to Athos. It took him a few seconds, but Athos stood and slowly reached for the offered weapon. As he closed his hand around the grip, d'Artagnan released the sword. It was obvious that Athos did not know what he was doing, he had not taken the sword with a firm grip. The sword looked oddly wrong in his hand. Athos lifted his hand up and down slightly, trying to assess the weapons weight, he looked quite uncomfortable holding it.

'I have no idea what I am doing with it,' he said, looking up at d'Artagnan.

He lowered the blade and passed the weapon back to d'Artagnan who replaced it on his belt. Athos stepped back to the bed and sat down.

'I really don't know anything do I...the only thing I've known so far is how to ride a horse.'

D'Artagnan realised he had perhaps selfishly, only really been thinking about his own reaction to Athos' memory loss. He had forgotten that the man himself was the real victim. And Athos was concerned, scared even.

'What does it feel like?' he asked tentatively.

Athos looked at him for a few seconds, furrowing his brow.

'I mean,' said d'Artagnan, 'do you really not have any other memories?'

'No,' replied Athos, who was looking increasingly upset, 'I only have the memories I have made since yesterday. There is nothing else. But I have understanding of words and I had no problem riding...it's frustrating...I'm sorry.'

D'Artagnan realised he had been a bit insensitive with the question.

'You have nothing to be sorry about, it's me who shouldn't have asked.'

Athos was quiet for a few moments before speaking again, 'could you teach me?'

'Teach you?'

'To fight, with a sword,' Athos smiled again, 'I mean, if I taught you to be as good as you seem to be, you should be able to teach me...my own style?'

D'Artagnan realised Athos was correct. Although he had been a good swordsman when he had arrived in Paris, it was under Athos' tutelage that he had improved. Porthos often commented that the two men fought with the same style.

'It would be an honour,' said d'Artagnan with a smile of his own.

MMMM

Porthos watched as Serge stood back from the table after laying the plate in front of Athos who had thanked him before picking up the fork and beginning to eat. Serge looked hopeful. Athos looked worried. D'Artagnan smiled encouragingly.

It was evident by Athos' third mouthful that as far as he knew he was eating the stew for the first time. Serge sighed, he looked at Porthos. Both men shook their heads. Serge wondered off looking a little upset that he had not helped to bring Athos back.

There were a few other men in the mess, but they had wisely steered clear of the inseparables. Porthos guessed that Treville had quietly told them as they arrived either to start or finish their day that one of their number was injured. Athos had looked a little worried as the other soldiers had filed into the mess. Porthos, who was sat next to their suffering friend had glared at any man who even looked as though they were moving towards the table.

Athos had quietly said to Porthos and d'Artagnan that he did not know any of the other men. He had sat quietly listening to the conversations around the room, but shook his head when he did not recognise any of the Musketeers or cadets.

Aramis was next to enter, he looked across to them, Porthos subtly shook his head. He knew they would be hoping every time they were apart from Athos for any length of time, that they would return to find Athos restored to them. Aramis joined them at the table.

'I still don't remember anything,' said Athos quietly, 'what did you learn from the court physician?'

D'Artagnan said to Aramis, 'he asked where you were, I didn't see the harm in telling him.'

Aramis smiled, 'of course not, we shouldn't keep things from him, we are doing all this for Athos after all.'

As Athos continued to eat his stew with Porthos tucking into his own dinner Aramis poured them each a cup of wine.

'Lemay - the court physician,' Aramis said for Athos' benefit, 'said much the same as we already knew. There isn't much really known about how to deal with this kind of injury. He could only make a few suggestions, which we have already thought of.'

'The whole taking him to places he should know in the hope that it will remind him...who he is,' said d'Artagnan.

Aramis nodded, 'he had a few other ideas, but let's start with a trip around the city.'

Athos, who had finished his plate of food, pushed it away and was about to stand.

'Where are you off to?' asked Porthos.

'To start getting my memory back,' replied Athos looking at them each.

Aramis chuckled, 'whilst we all share your enthusiasm, Athos,' he said, 'I think it is a bit late now to be taking you out there. It is dark, and we need you to see the places we will take you to.'

Athos sat back down with a sigh, 'I suppose you're right, I just want to get back to normal.'

'And we will do our best to get you there,' said Porthos.

Athos looked a little disappointed that they were not going to start working on his recovery straight away. In truth, Porthos felt the same, but Aramis was correct; they could take the whole of the following day to travel around Paris to the various places that Athos frequented often in the hope that it would help him.

MMMM

 **Authors note: The next few chapters will be posted in the mornings (UK time). And thank you to the people who pointed out my missing comma at the end of chapter three – I have corrected that now.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Athos had awoken early the following morning. He was sat up, dressed and waiting for Aramis and Porthos to wake.

'You could have woken one of us,' said Aramis after Porthos had shaken him awake.

'Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you,' said Athos, who had moved to look out of the window as the two Musketeers dressed behind him. 'I expect you don't get many chances to sleep soundly, in your own beds.'

Aramis glanced across at Porthos who shrugged his shoulders, unsure how to respond.

'How are you feeling today?' asked Porthos in the end.

Athos smiled, 'my head doesn't ache at all now,' he said.

Aramis still found his friend's demeanour strange, this Athos was more talkative, but he did not talk like Athos. He sounded like Athos, but his speech was different.

'Good,' said Porthos as he buttoned his doublet, 'we'll get some breakfast and then head out to the city. If we leave soon, we should be able to get around some of your haunts before it gets too busy.'

Athos nodded, he turned from the window and watched them both strapping on their weapons belts.

'I asked d'Artagnan if he would teach me to handle a sword. Will we have time for that as well today?'

Aramis said, 'we'll see. It may take us a while to get around the city. And although you're feeling fine now, you may struggle later, we don't want to overdo it.'

'Of course,' replied Athos.

Aramis was impressed with Athos' need to get himself back to normal. The man, who seemed younger now that he had no memory, was showing an enthusiasm he had not seen in Athos before. Perhaps, as Lemay had suggested, Athos had reverted to some early personification of himself, but without the memories to go with it. Were they in the company of the Athos from a few years ago, from before his ill-fated marriage?

MMMM

D'Artagnan had met them in the mess and was now leading them through the garrison gate. He had told them that he had worked out a route around the city to take in Athos' rooms and his favoured taverns.

Athos had approved of the idea saying he was curious to see his rooms. D'Artagnan was surprised when Athos had fallen into step beside him. Aramis and Porthos were walking behind them talking quietly.

'Do you get many issues with the people of the city? Do they respect you, as a Musketeer?'

D'Artagnan thought for a moment, it was odd to be explaining such things to the man who had explained it all to him in the first place.

'Most people are pleased to see us. Of course, there are always some who don't like us, for various reasons. But we deal with them when we come across them.'

'Do they fight you?' Athos asked as he looked around at the men and women who were going about their business. 'These people do not look particularly capable of fighting.'

D'Artagnan laughed, 'you would be surprised how - capable - they can become when the taxes are put up,' he replied.

D'Artagnan hated how easy it was becoming to talk to Athos as if he did not know him. Which, d'Artagnan had to admit, he did not. The man walking next to him was not carrying himself as Athos did. He was looking around with a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a hint of fear. Athos, the Athos d'Artagnan knew, would have walked with purpose. People would have known they needed to move for him. This man was uncertain in his steps, he did not know where he was or where he was going.

They reached Athos' rooms. D'Artagnan had retrieved the key from Athos the previous day, not wanting him to inadvertently lose it.

'I live here?'

'Yes,' said Porthos as he and Aramis caught them up. 'You two go up, we'll wait here, there's not much space and we don't want to crowd you.'

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos and Aramis nodded encouragingly to the injured man who looked uncertain as he stepped into the building. D'Artagnan followed him in.

'Up the stairs, it's the first door.'

Athos slowly climbed the stairs, he rested his hand on the wall as he went, feeling the rough paintwork. He paused when a stair creaked, then continued, looking up as he went. D'Artagnan followed him watching him carefully, hoping there would be some spark of recognition.

Athos pushed the door open, he stepped over the threshold and paused, slowly turning his head to look around the small room.

'I'm not very tidy,' he remarked, 'and I seem to drink quite a lot.'

As Athos took a few steps into the room d'Artagnan lingered by the doorway. Athos stopped in the centre of the room and slowly turned on the spot. The bed was unmade, the blankets roughly thrown back. At least three wine bottles lay on their sides under the bed.

The only item that held a place of reverence in the room was the sword hanging on the wall. Athos looked at it carefully he reached out towards it before stopping and looking at d'Artagnan, seeking permission.

D'Artagnan smiled, 'it is yours.'

Athos nodded and turned back to the sword and lifted it from the wall. He slipped his right hand around the grip and rested the blade on the palm of his left hand. He looked at the sword carefully.

'I believe it belonged to a relative of yours, your father or grandfather,' said d'Artagnan.

Athos carefully replaced the sword on its hooks. He stood back a couple of paces and after another few seconds looking at the sword he turned back to d'Artagnan. He shook his head.

'Nothing?'

With a sigh, Athos shook his head again.

'No,' he pulled out a chair from the table that sat against a wall and sat down heavily.

D'Artagnan watched him, a little concerned.

'Sorry,' Athos said looking up at him. 'It's...difficult...I can't work out how to do...this.

He paused looking down, d'Artagnan wondered if he was struggling to contain his emotions. He was not surprised; the man had been through a lot in the last day. He had effectively only lived one day. It was no wonder if all was becoming a bit much for him.

'Perhaps we shouldn't have come here. Perhaps we are trying this too soon.'

Athos shook his head, 'no, we have to keep trying, I have to keep trying. I know it's not been long, but I hate it. I hate how distressed this has made you all. I don't like this feeling, this emptiness…'

Athos looked around the room again before he continued.

'But, if it's alright, I'd rather not stay here. On my own. Do you think they would mind, if I stayed with them...at least for the time being?'

'Of course, it will be alright,' said Aramis from the doorway.

D'Artagnan had not noticed their two friends arrive. Aramis and Porthos were hovering by the door, the concern etched on their faces.

Athos blinked a few times and sniffed. D'Artagnan was not used to his friend displaying emotion quite so openly.

'Thank you,' he said.

MMMM

Porthos glanced back at Athos and Aramis who were walking behind him and d'Artagnan.

'You alright?' asked Porthos quietly, leaning into d'Artagnan slightly.

D'Artagnan nodded, 'it's just strange. I'm glad you both came up, I wasn't really sure what to say to him.'

'It is strange,' agreed Porthos thinking back to Athos' brief breakdown.

It had taken Athos a few minutes to gather himself. They had waited patiently. He had apologised despite them telling him not to.

Once he had composed himself he had looked through the chest of clothing and picked out a plain doublet to wear saying that he felt that he looked too much like a soldier in the leather jacket.

Now they were walking along the road they normally took to the Palace. Aramis was pointing out various things to Athos as they went.

'Do you think he's being like he was when he was younger, you know, before her?' asked d'Artagnan.

Porthos did not need d'Artagnan to spell out who he was talking about. They knew Milady de Winter had been Athos' wife and that he had been forced to condemn her to die, the act must have changed the man. Were they with the Athos who had not known the tragedy that she had caused him?

'The thing is,' pointed out Porthos, 'he's got no other memory, it's just his attitude and actions that we're going on. It seems like he's acting younger because he's 'aving to learn everything.'

They walked on for a few minutes pausing at one of the taverns they visited occasionally. Athos and Aramis went in for a few minutes but returned having had no luck.

'I'm finding him quite chatty,' said Porthos as they continued to walk towards the Palace, 'it's very strange.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I know, it takes a bit of getting used to...when we get him back, it will seem very quiet.'

Porthos smiled at d'Artagnan's apparent optimism. He had to remind himself that it had only been a couple of days since the accident. They were still trying to help Athos, they were not giving up on their friend. There was still plenty they had to try to get their friend back as he had been.

MMMM

Aramis wondered if Athos felt a little embarrassed after his earlier issues. He was asking lots of questions now, it was as if he wanted to keep their conversation away from his own worry. Aramis allowed Athos to ask his questions and leave what had happened behind them.

'Which of us has been a soldier the longest?'

'I have,' replied Aramis, 'I was also one of the first in Treville's regiment. Porthos was in the infantry for a few years. You and he joined the Musketeers at around the same time.'

Athos had been asking about their backgrounds, although he did not ask about his own. Aramis wondered if he did not want to know what he was like for some reason. Perhaps after his issues when he visited his rooms earlier he wanted to step back a little from finding out who he was and was hoping that some other stimulus would jog his memory.

'D'Artagnan was saying that I taught him how to be a better sword fighter, am I...was I really that good?'

'Yes,' replied Aramis, 'and you will be again.'

'I hope so.'

Athos was trying very hard, he had tried to remember and wanted to learn. There was still the chance the man would regain his memory, and Aramis was not ready to accept that he might never get back to his normal self.

Aramis was snapped from his thoughts by a quiet cry of pain from an elderly woman near him. The streets had been getting busier as they had walked along. They were passing a row of market stalls; an elderly woman had been knocked by a young man. His intentions were not nefarious, but the damage was done nonetheless. The woman, frail and old, had crumpled to the floor. Aramis had been quick to catch her before she slumped completely. The young man stared for a few seconds before moving off.

'Watch what you're doing, you idiot,' said Aramis with barely disguised annoyance.

The old woman was looking up at him, she allowed him to ease her back to her feet. A couple of women on the market stall she had fallen by were coming to her aid. Aramis made sure the woman was not injured before allowing the two stall holders to take her from his grasp. They ushered her to a seat behind the stall and sat her down.

'Thank you, monsieur,' she said, her voice shaking from the shock of being knocked to the ground.

Aramis raised his hat and smiled at her, 'my pleasure, madam,' he said.

Once he was sure the woman was in safe hands he turned back to Athos. He had been aware of his friend taking a few steps away, he thought Athos had simply moved out of the way of the passing people. The market was busy now, Aramis looked around trying to spot his friend. When he found Athos, Aramis moved towards him quickly.

Athos was standing with his back to the wall of a nearby house, he was staring at two men who had approached him. The men were clearly not friendly. Athos looked scared. Aramis could not think of many times he had seen Athos scared. But he was scared now, his eyes wide, staring at the two men who were stepping closer to him.

Aramis pushed his way past a few people to get to his friend. His friend who did not know how to deal with the two men in front of him. Athos was not carrying any weapons. They had decided the day before that as Athos did not know how to wield a weapon it was not a good idea for him to be armed.

The two men pressed forward, Athos held up one hand in defence. Aramis was still pushing passed people as he watched one of the men pull a knife from his belt and hold it up to Athos. It was clear to Aramis that the men meant to rob Athos. His plain, but obviously expensive doublet had drawn the attention of some local thieves.

The men were in their twenties, one looked like a fighter, the sort of man that Porthos would have enjoyed a fist fight with, he was burly, and looked like he could look after himself. The other man, a little younger, was pointing the knife at Athos. He looked as though he knew what he was doing with the knife, he held it with confidence.

Aramis managed to push his way up to the three men. He grabbed the man with the knife around the arms and twisted him away, throwing him forcefully to the floor. The man sprawled on the ground, smacking his head into the cobbles.

The other man turned to Aramis and pulled a sword from his belt. Aramis did not hesitate in drawing his own weapon in kind.

Aramis glanced across to Athos who was still by the wall, he appeared to have pushed himself into the wall, as if he wanted to disappear, away from his attackers.

Athos looked terrified.

MMMM


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The clash of swords behind them made both Musketeers turn. D'Artagnan was always amused that he could sleep through sparring sessions if he had worked the night before. The clash of swords in the garrison was rarely a sign of trouble. But here, in a crowded marketplace, it was never good.

It was also a worry that the sword fight was happening where he had last spotted Athos and Aramis. As they pushed past the people who had filled the street d'Artagnan caught a glimpse of Aramis, who had lost his hat swinging his sword towards a young man who looked more suited to brawling than swordsmanship. The man parried Aramis' sword strike and managed to step up to the marksman before pushing him back a few paces with force. But Aramis was not so easily defeated and stepped back into the fight immediately. What was causing Aramis a problem was the second man who was getting back to his feet and appeared to be advancing on Athos.

Athos was sat on the ground, his knees pulled up and one hand in front of himself. He was shying away from the attacker who had a knife in his hand. Athos looked scared and Aramis was trying to put himself between the second attacker and Athos but was struggling to do so due to the brutal attack from the bigger man.

Porthos charged ahead and wrapped his arms around the slight man with the knife who yelped in shock, dropping his weapon as he did so. The man was dragged away by Porthos who paid no attention to the man's struggles.

D'Artagnan drew his sword and put himself in front of Athos who had lowered his defensive hand and was watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

Now that he did not have to defend Athos, Aramis could go on the offensive without distraction. The big man was disarmed in seconds and had a couple of well-placed sword inflicted wounds to his arm and side. The injuries would not prove fatal but would leave the man in pain for a few days.

The man glared at Aramis, who glared back, before raising his sword again and taking a small step forward. The man thought better of continuing the fight. He spat in their direction before turning on his heels and disappearing into the crowd of watching people, pushing his way past them as he did so. The crowd seemed disappointed that the fight was over. They began to move away. D'Artagnan was pleased he did not like being the centre of attention when one of them could have been injured.

Porthos reappeared having dealt with the other man, he crouched down by Athos who appeared to be shaking slightly. After a moment of encouragement, Athos allowed himself to be pulled up to stand.

'I'm sorry, I left you alone,' said Aramis as he slid his sword back in his belt. 'I got distracted, are you alright?'

D'Artagnan was a little surprised at Athos' reaction, although obviously still worked up by the recent event he spoke clearly in reply.

'You have nothing to apologise for, Aramis,' he said. 'I wandered off, I should have stayed closer...are you alright?'

'Of course, he's alright,' said Porthos clapping the marksman on the shoulder.

Aramis nodded his agreement.

'I was scared of them. I didn't know what they wanted, and when he pulled out the knife…'

D'Artagnan watched as Athos shuddered. It was such a disconcerting thing to see his usually confident friend reduced to a timid, scared man.

'I think,' continued Athos, 'I would like, some basic knowledge of how to defend myself. This is a dangerous place, and you three may not always be around to protect me.'

It was an unpleasant thought, but Athos was correct, if his memory did not come back soon there would come a time when they could not watch him constantly.

'I don't think we are at that point yet, my friend,' said Aramis with a smile, 'but perhaps d'Artagnan will teach you some of the basics.'

D'Artagnan nodded his ascent, it would be a strange thing to do, but he would not shy away from the challenge.

MMMM

Treville, who had spent a few minutes talking to Athos and trying not to react to how different the man was, indicated for Aramis to walk with him. He wanted to talk out of earshot of his injured Musketeer. He knew that Athos understood what had happened to him but Treville wanted Aramis to be completely candid with him. Treville also suspected he may have to say things that might upset Athos.

'He hasn't recognised anything? You were out there for a few hours and nothing?' asked Treville, he already knew the answer but did not want to believe it.

The men had returned to the garrison a little earlier, Athos had looked pale and his clothing was dirty. After a brief update of the incident in the market, Treville had asked generally how the day had gone otherwise.

Aramis stopped walking by his horse which was being brushed by one of the stable boys. He held out his hand and offered the beast half a carrot he had stolen from the mess a few minutes earlier. As the horse chomped on the carrot Aramis stroked her muzzle.

'There was not even a flicker of recognition. The poor man got a bit worked up when d'Artagnan took him up to his rooms. I'm not sure if we are putting too much pressure on him to remember,' Aramis paused glancing back to his brothers who were sat at the table.

Treville knew the men were surreptitiously watching them. They knew the conversation was about Athos.

'What about the other suggestions Lemay had to help him remember?'

Aramis shook his head, 'it's only been a couple of days I'd like to keep trying to jog his memory gently before we try anything else.'

Treville nodded, he agreed that more drastic measures were not necessary yet if they were even an option anyway. He did not want to lose his lieutenant, but at that moment Treville was starting to wonder if they would get him back.

'He wants to learn to defend himself. He has no idea how to handle a sword. He's asked if d'Artagnan could teach him.'

Treville said, 'if anyone can remind him how to fight with a sword it would be d'Artagnan.'

'It may be the approach he needs, he is first and foremost a soldier. Perhaps getting him back into a routine would help him. We would start with the basics,' Aramis paused with a sad smile, 'which I think is all he would be able to manage, if today was anything to go by.'

'Not your fault, Aramis. I know you are all looking out for him, but things happen.'

Aramis nodded turning back towards his brothers who had given up any pretence of doing other things and were just looking over at them both now.

'Start teaching him tomorrow. You can take him off somewhere private, he probably won't want an audience. Just remember that although he looks like Athos, he really isn't at the moment.'

'Yes, Captain,' replied Aramis with a nod.

Treville watched his marksman walk back to the group. Aramis related what had been said causing Athos to smile and nod his thanks. Treville nodded back before walking away. He wondered what the future would hold for Athos if his memory did not return. Would he stay with them? What would he do? If he did no longer have the skills of a soldier he would be of no real use to Treville. Treville hated to think of Athos as a commodity, but the man would need to earn his keep. Treville tried to dismiss the thought of the injured man not recovering, of course Athos would get his memory back.

But what if he did not?

MMMM

The tavern was busy, no more than usual but Athos had been a little hesitant when they walked in. He had asked to visit one of his usual taverns for their evening meal. Porthos was again impressed with Athos attitude and attempts to aid his own recovery. After the earlier altercation, after Athos had calmed down he had apologised again for not being able to do anything. He had obviously felt guilty for leaving himself open to attack. Aramis had pointed out that the men who picked on him had probably done so before and would do so again. He had just been unlucky. Athos had still looked guilty, saying he could have been the cause of Aramis coming to harm. Porthos had again pointed out that they were trained soldiers and unlikely to be beaten by two impoverished thieves, although even the best of them could be taken by surprise.

Athos had been a little placated after they had all reassured him. When he had offered to buy them dinner as a thank you for their continued kindness to him Porthos had laughed out loud and pointed out that Athos was frequently the one to pay for their meals anyway. The remark had caused Athos to laugh in return. Which Porthos still found odd.

They found themselves a table away from the main throng of patrons. A couple of people had greeted Athos, which had confused the man, but he had managed to remain civil. The acquaintances had wandered off, perhaps thinking that Athos was in no mood to talk to them, as was often the case.

'Should we tell people what has happened to me?' asked Athos quietly when they had sat down.

Porthos watched d'Artagnan and Aramis who had wandered over to the bar to buy wine and order food.

'I don't think we should...not because it's anythin' to be ashamed of, just that it leaves you vulnerable.'

Athos looked confused.

'We're the King's Musketeers, some people don't take kindly to us...and over the years you've picked up a few enemies who would probably like to take advantage of your current state.'

Athos now looked worried, he glanced around as if the enemies that Porthos had mentioned might be nearby.

'Perhaps we shouldn't tell anyone then,' Athos concluded.

Porthos chuckled, 'for the best, I would say.'

Aramis sat in the chair opposite Porthos, pulling his gloves off and tucking them into his belt.

'It's meat pie today. No idea what the meat is,' he said.

'Doesn't really matter, it rarely tastes of anything by the time we get it anyway,' remarked Porthos.

Athos said, 'why do you eat here then?'

Porthos and Aramis looked at each other for a few seconds.

'I'm not actually sure,' said Porthos, 'we just always have.'

D'Artagnan returned with wine and cups for them each.

As he poured the wine he said, 'Jean was asking after you, he's the tavern keeper, I told him that you were a little under the weather and not up to talking to him.'

Athos smiled, 'thank you,' he said.

The sat in silence for a few seconds, Athos continued to look around the room, taking in the hubbub of activity. Porthos tried to look at the tavern from a stranger's eyes. The room they were in was dimly lit, with several tables scattered around. A large fire dominated one wall with the main door in the opposite wall. The customers ranged from a handful of soldiers, other than themselves, to a group of market traders who were animatedly discussing something a few tables away. A couple of street women were plying their trade to some young men, Porthos could tell the deal was nearly done and the women would lead the younger men away. The tavern keeper had just thumped a rowdy man who had become a bit too friendly with a serving girl. The man looked quite put out and squared up to the tavern keeper who was backed up almost immediately by a couple of the market traders. The man said something, probably derogatory before turning and walking out of the tavern. Jean slapped the market traders on their backs in thanks and indicated for the serving girl to refill their wine jug.

'I've not really asked about myself,' said Athos after a while, 'I think you need to give me an idea of what I'm like.'

Porthos looked at Aramis and d'Artagnan in turn.

'I know that must be a difficult question for you to answer, but it might help me...if I ask questions perhaps you could just answer them?'

'That might be the best way,' said Porthos.

Athos nodded before asking, 'do I have any family?'

'Your parents are both dead,' said Porthos before hesitating.

'There's something about my family you don't want to tell me isn't there? Am I married? Is there a woman somewhere who might be worrying about me?'

Porthos sighed, he knew this would be a difficult conversation for them to have. But Athos was right, it might help him. Nothing else had worked so far.

D'Artagnan took up the information giving, 'you were married, but she…' he paused.

'Did she die?'

'Not quite,' said d'Artagnan slowly.

Athos now looked very confused. Porthos realised they would have to tell him everything they knew. It took them a while, but the hesitant conversation gradually revealed to Athos his history. They explained everything they could, there were gaps because Athos had not told them everything. When d'Artagnan related how Milady had returned and tried to use him for her gain Athos had looked stunned. But when they told him that the woman was at the Palace and the King's current mistress Athos had become quite pale, a shocked look on his face.

'Sorry,' said Porthos, 'we weren't sure how you'd take that.'

'I can only imagine she must have had a profound effect on me. Does she know what's happened to me?' he paused, 'actually I don't think she should, she sounds like she falls into the category of enemy.'

'She doesn't know, and we will keep it that way,' said d'Artagnan.

They had eaten their meal and continued to tell Athos about himself, at least what they knew of him. It struck Porthos that there was quite a lot they did not know about each other's pasts and now it was causing them an issue. Although still nothing had sparked recognition in their friend.

Porthos hoped that the sword fighting lesson he would receive the next day might provide the spark.

MMMM


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

They had set out early, d'Artagnan led them, riding at an easy trot to the spot they knew would be deserted. A few miles outside Paris an open but secluded area hidden from the road by a stand of trees. After securing the horses to the trees they moved into the open space. Aramis and Porthos looked at d'Artagnan expectantly. Despite only being a commissioned Musketeer for a year the man was already a capable teacher of swordsmanship. Aramis had every confidence in the young man to help their injured brother.

Athos had been quiet on the journey, which after the previous three days of questions was odd. But Aramis surmised the man was probably a little apprehensive despite his wish to be taught. They had spent some time the previous night telling him how good he was even though they knew that now, Athos knew nothing.

'Perhaps you two could do a bit of sparring, nothing over the top, just some simple moves?' asked d'Artagnan, 'let Athos get an idea of what we want from him.'

Porthos smiled, 'our pleasure,' he said with a nod to Aramis.

Both men took off their hats and drew their swords. D'Artagnan took Athos a few steps away. Aramis raised his sword in salute to Porthos who reciprocated. They often demonstrated basic techniques for the cadets and knew that this was no different. As much as they enjoyed trying to beat each other in a sparring session they knew that Athos might be intimidated if they were too aggressive with each other.

They had decided to treat Athos, at least during his training session as though he were a cadet. It was the only way they could deal with the thought of teaching their brother. Athos was a better swordsman than all of them and to have to teach him from scratch was not something any of them really wanted to do. But as Athos had suggested it and they knew it might help him they were willing to give it a go.

Neither man hit with full force, they did not move about too much, simply stepping in and back with their thrusts and parries. Aramis had his left hand on his hip, whilst Porthos kept his in the air. Aramis was aware of d'Artagnan talking Athos through what they were doing pointing out how they moved their feet and kept their balance.

D'Artagnan nodded to Aramis who smiled. He looked at Porthos and tilted his head, Porthos rolled his eyes. Porthos allowed Aramis to disarm him and effectively win their demonstration.

Athos had watched in awe of the whole thing. He turned to d'Artagnan.

'I'm not sure I can do that, it looks very difficult.'

'Don't worry,' said d'Artagnan, 'you won't be doing that yet. We'll start with getting your poise and footwork right then we'll move on to actually trying to hit someone with a sword.'

So that Athos did not feel too self-conscious both Aramis and Porthos joined him in the footwork drills. He watched them both carefully and tried to copy their movements. D'Artagnan corrected him and gently guided him to improvement. As they worked and d'Artagnan had to frequently correct their friend's grip on his sword Aramis worried that this new Athos was not really cut out to wield a weapon.

After a while, Aramis and Porthos left the others to work alone. They wandered off a little distance and observed the pair.

'D'Artagnan's a good teacher,' said Porthos, 'but Athos ain't a good pupil.'

'He wants it too much,' said Aramis. 'He wants his memories to come back and is trying too hard. He needs to relax, but I can't see that happening yet.'

'What if he never recovers?' asked Porthos.

Aramis replied, 'let's not get ahead of ourselves.'

'No, Aramis, we really have to consider it. I know Treville already is. What if he's really gone?'

'He's not gone. Give him time.'

Porthos shook his head, 'sorry. I'm just...I wish…'

Aramis looked across to Athos and d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan was again corrected Athos hold on the sword.

'It's like he's never held a sword,' said Porthos.

'He hasn't, this is not really Athos is it. We have to try to find Athos from the depths of this man's mind.'

'I hope you're right. I hope he is still there somewhere,' said Porthos sadly.

Aramis was worried Porthos was losing hope too soon. They had to keep trying. They owed it to Athos. Their brother was there somewhere, they just had to work out how to unlock him, how to get past the barrier that had been built.

The man in front of them was trying, it was clear he was enthusiastic but his wish to rush was what was slowing him down. Had Athos been a normal cadet d'Artagnan would probably have shouted at him by now, Aramis could see that he was becoming exasperated in the work and was struggling to hold his tongue. He decided they needed to change tactics.

MMMM

The area they were in was far enough from the road that the clash of swords would not be heard, it was also far enough away that a few gunshots would not draw attention either. Porthos watched as Aramis approached Athos and d'Artagnan. They had a brief conversation before d'Artagnan smiled and walked away, taking Athos sword with him. Aramis remained where he was and pulled his gun from his belt.

Porthos sat himself down on the ground, leaning back on a large tree. D'Artagnan sat heavily beside him.

'If he was a real cadet…' d'Artagnan trailed off.

'I know,' replied Porthos, 'you probably would have left him doing something really repetitive. It's difficult to know how to treat him. He's enthusiastic, but he's not a cadet. It wouldn't be right for us to castigate him...but he is, sorry d'Artagnan, but he's no good with the sword.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I'm trying, and he is paying attention but it just doesn't seem to stick.'

'And you don't want to admonish him because he's...Athos.'

'He's Athos,' repeated d'Artagnan.

They sat in silence as they watched Aramis talking Athos through the parts of the gun and slowly showing him how to load and prime the weapon ready for firing. Aramis pointed at something in the distance before raising the gun and calmly shooting. Athos looked impressed, the marksman had clearly hit whatever it was that he had pointed out to Athos.

Aramis handed the weapon over and allowed Athos to load the gun. It took Athos a while but he managed to ready the weapon. Aramis pointed at a tree several yards away. Athos raised his arm ready to fire. Aramis stopped him and spent a few seconds adjusting Athos' stance before stepping back and indicating he should continue.

Athos fired the gun.

The tree remained intact.

Athos looked a bit upset, Aramis shook his head and gestured for Athos to reload the gun. Again it took Athos some time to load and prime the weapon, Aramis had to talk him through every step. He had to be corrected several times before he was ready to fire for a second time. The ball went wide of its mark.

D'Artagnan sighed, 'what are we going to do. I hate to say it but he really is hopeless.'

'Aramis doesn't want to accept that he might be gone,' said Porthos as they continued to watch their friends.

'I don't want to accept it either...but how long do we wait?'

Porthos looked at d'Artagnan, 'I suppose that's the question ain't it? It's only been, what three or four days now. How long should we wait until we decide our Athos is gone and this man, this new Athos is what we have now?'

MMMM

Aramis had decided they should take Athos to the Palace. He proposed they take him very early in the morning. The others had looked at him sceptically.

'That's a bit risky,' said d'Artagnan, 'what if we run into the King, or...her.'

'Yes it's a risk,' agreed Aramis, 'but it's the only place we haven't been properly.'

D'Artagnan was unconvinced. The chances of them meeting someone who would want to talk with them was too high. Athos would not be able to pretend he was fine and they would probably get in trouble for bringing a man who was effectively a stranger to the Palace.

Aramis had helped Athos to strap his pauldron on for the trip, it would have looked odd if someone they knew saw Athos out of uniform, particularly as he would be with three other uniformed men.

They slipped out of the garrison as the sun started to rise. Porthos had grumbled about it being a bad idea throughout the ride across the city. They had deliberately gone early in the hope that the Royal family would still be in their chambers, which also meant there would be fewer courtiers around.

Athos had been taken passed the Palace when they had their day walking around the city, he had thought the building impressive, but he also did not recognise it. Now they were going in. They stabled the horses and walked towards the Palace.

'I don't want any of you to get in trouble doing this,' said Athos as they walked through one of the entrances.

The two Red Guardsmen on the door eyed the four Musketeers carefully. D'Artagnan wondered if they knew about Athos' predicament. They knew that the other men in the Musketeer garrison knew, but they had been given strict instructions not to pass the information on.

Athos looked around, taking in the paintings and grand furniture. They walked along as slowly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. Where a door to a room was open and unoccupied Aramis stopped and encouraged Athos to look inside.

Porthos was keeping an eye out ahead of them while d'Artagnan loitered back a few paces checking behind them frequently.

'This is pointless,' Athos said after a while, 'Aramis, if I was going to remember something about this magnificent building, I would have done by now.'

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis, who was about to speak, was stopped by Athos with a wave of his hand, 'you are taking too great a risk on my part. If we are caught here, I know you are the ones who will get in trouble.'

'Aramis,' said d'Artagnan, 'you know he's right, let's get back to the garrison before Treville misses us, or we do get caught here with an injured man in tow.'

Aramis was forced to admit defeat and nodded. Athos smiled at him.

'Thank you for continuing to try though,' he said.

MMMM

'I'm sorry,' said Aramis as they returned through the garrison gate, 'I just wanted to try…'

'Where have you all been to so early?' asked Treville from above them.

They looked up, Treville was looking down at them, 'there can't be many places he hasn't been by now.'

'Aramis thought it would be a good idea to show me the-'

'-river,' finished Porthos who had realised that Treville would probably not appreciate them sneaking around the Palace early in the morning with an injured man.

Athos quickly nodded his head in agreement. Treville looked at them carefully. Porthos could tell he knew they were lying, but he could not prove it. The men would all just pretend the exchange had not happened.

'I think we need to talk about our...situation,' said Treville, 'come up to my office after you've had your breakfast. And Aramis,' he paused and looked at Aramis hard, 'let's not take any more risks please.'

Treville walked back into his office.

'Does he know where we were?' asked Athos, 'and how did he know that you were the one who suggested we go there?'

Porthos was grinning as he put his arm over Aramis' shoulders, 'Treville has known Aramis for a long time...and I am fairly sure he can read minds.'

MMMM

Treville was a little surprised when Athos also walked into his office. Porthos noticed the look on Treville face.

'We're gonna be talking about him. And he knows and understands what's happened to him, he should be here,' Porthos remarked before Treville could question the inclusion of the injured man in the meeting.

'It's alright Captain,' said Athos, 'you can be honest with me when you talk, you don't need to dance around the subject.'

Treville nodded slowly. He was still finding it difficult to accept that the man in front of him was his lieutenant. Although he was not really. This man was really quite different. He was much more talkative and inquisitive. He was friendly and very open. Not that Athos was not those things but it was only on very rare occasions.

Once the door to his office had been closed he looked at his men. D'Artagnan looked a little apprehensive, Treville knew they had not had much success with trying to train him the previous day. He hoped the young Musketeer was not blaming himself for Athos' lack of ability.

Porthos almost looked resigned to the loss of his friend. Treville thought it was akin to mourning after a death. Athos was in the room, but at the same time, he was not.

It was Aramis that Treville knew he would have the toughest time with. If their early morning trip out was to the Palace as he suspected, Treville knew that Aramis was prepared to try pretty much anything to help Athos regain his memories. Aramis, who probably still thought he had done something wrong with his initial treatment of the man, would find it hardest to accept that Athos might be gone.

'I think you know what I have to say,' began Treville.

The men did not interrupt him, they did know what their Captain had to say.

'Much as I want to leave the four of you to work on your problem,' he glanced at Athos with a sad smile, 'I cannot spare all four of you for this anymore.'

Aramis was about to speak but Athos stepped forward.

'It's alright,' he said glancing at Aramis, 'I know my continued lack of improvement is frustrating, trust me I'm very frustrated by it. But you all have a job to do. You should be protecting the city. You should be being soldiers, not my guardians.'

'But there are more things we can try,' protested Aramis.

Treville looked at Aramis who wisely decided not to continue.

'I know this is difficult for you all to accept, but Athos, your memories may never come back, or it may be weeks or months.'

Aramis sighed and looked down, d'Artagnan rested his hand on the marksman's shoulder in solidarity. Treville thought for a moment. He knew that with the Palace about to be busy with visitors he could not spare all three of his men, but he could probably manage to spare one at a time. He knew that the other Musketeers in the garrison would be happy to cover the disparity of two missing men, one injured and one helping him.

'Let's compromise,' Treville said looking at Aramis who had raised his head at the words, 'for the next week I will spare one of you to be with Athos each day. You can continue to walk him around Paris, and train him, if that's what he wants.'

Athos nodded enthusiastically. The other shifted slightly, Aramis straightened up a bit.

'We can take it in turns,' said Porthos, 'one on one training might be what you need.'

Athos asked, 'would it be possible to continue my training in private? I know the others have been told about my condition, but from what you have all said about me I'm, somewhat better than...I...am at the moment.'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'I think that can be arranged.'

MMMM


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

'You're very patient,' said Athos as Aramis calmly adjusted the position of his hand on the gun again. Athos had forgotten how many times Aramis had made the move.

They were back in the same secluded spot aiming at the same tree. Athos wished he was better than he was. They had been working steadily for a couple of hours. He wanted to be better, what frustrated him most was that they all knew he was better. The old him, the real him. His memories only lasted six days. That was all he knew. He had lain in bed at night as Aramis and Porthos slept and tried to remember.

He had looked at the men who were his friends and he tried to picture them all together in battle or even in the skirmish that had left him the way he was. He could not imagine it, could not see it, could not remember it.

From what they had told him he was something of a mentor to d'Artagnan, but the young man did not appear to need any guidance. His skill with a sword were exemplary, Athos could not see anyone being better. Including himself, his old self.

Athos had to keep reminding himself that he was not who he was. There was a whole other person, with a quiet brooding demeanour it seemed, who had been suppressed by the injury he had received.

Porthos and d'Artagnan were trying to accept him for what he had become. What it seemed he would continue to be. But Aramis was not ready to let the old Athos go. He was still determined the old Athos would be found again.

Athos had watched the marksman a few times when he did not realise he was being observed. Aramis would stare off into the distance. Athos wondered if even he was, in those moments of solitude, starting to accept that the Athos they all knew was gone. And he, this stranger to them and himself, was what they were left with.

Aramis stepped back a couple of paces after pushing Athos' arm straight again.

'Slowly, we can work on speed once you've become a bit more accurate,' said Aramis, 'and yes I am patient. It's how I hit the target more than the others do.'

Athos levelled the gun, focusing on the tree that Aramis had now pinned a piece of fabric to as a target. He pulled the trigger.

He stared at the tree for a few seconds before looking at Aramis who had the biggest grin he had seen from the Musketeer.

He had hit the tree, not only that, he had hit the target as well.

'It only took, what, twenty tries,' quipped Athos with a smile.

'I don't care, you did what we set out to do. Now, let's see if you can repeat that in less than twenty attempts?'

MMMM

The look of astonishment on his friend's face had made Aramis' day. They had been slowly working on his aim for a couple of hours. Aramis had not wanted to say anything, but he had noticed a slow steady improvement over the time they were together.

It had been oddly satisfying talking Athos through the cleaning and loading of the weapon. They had sat together in the garrison yard that morning and cleaned several guns. The methodical work had given them time to talk.

Aramis had told Athos about various skirmishes and battles they had been in. Unusually Aramis had not exaggerated or embellished the stories. He had given the facts as they were. Nonetheless, Athos was still impressed with what they had done together.

As they had ridden out to the spot where they would practice shooting Athos had asked his usual questions. Aramis wondered when the man would be satisfied, when would he have asked all that he could. But Aramis had concluded that Athos had lost so much, he needed to know who they all where and where he fit into their world.

Should he start to accept that Athos was gone? The thought had started to creep into his mind every so often. But Aramis did not want to think like that, he knew the others were, he knew Athos was starting to think it.

No. He would keep trying. He would not give up on Athos, or the man he had become. The new Athos wanted to help them to find the old Athos.

Aramis just wished he knew how to get Athos back.

MMMM

Athos decided very quickly that he was not a man who like brawling. Hand to hand combat was really quite brutal. And although he thought that Porthos was going easy on him, he was not sure.

As the Musketeer helped him off the ground again, Athos had lost count of the number of times Porthos had managed to leave him on the floor, he wondered if he would really need to know how to fight without a weapon.

They were soldiers, surely he could just use his sword and gun to repel the enemy?

The thought was pushed from his mind as the air was forced from his lungs. He found he was staring at the blue sky again with Porthos kneeling above him looking a little concerned.

'Not sure I'm cut out for this,' Athos said as he got his breath back.

'You'll learn. D'Artagnan was a bit rubbish at this when he first started, but he can give as good as he gets now.'

Athos allowed Porthos to pull him to his feet and gratefully accepted the waterskin when it was pushed into his hands.

'If you become separated from your weapons or are in a tight spot and can't draw your sword or gun, being able to knock your opponent off his feet is vital. And being able to evade a punch is just as important.'

Athos could tell Porthos was very serious about what he was saying, they had talked about his years in the Court of Miracles. Athos knew that Porthos was very good at thinking quickly and using whatever was to hand to aid him.

'Then let's continue,' said Athos after a few more seconds, 'but perhaps you could be a little less forceful?'

Porthos grinned, Athos realised the Musketeer was going to be no such thing.

MMMM

The old Athos, the Athos Porthos thought was gone, had been a bit similar when it came to hand to hand combat. The skill was a necessity but not something he embraced. Given the chance, Athos would sooner run the enemy through with a sword then get close enough to fight with his fists.

The old Athos was capable enough, he had managed to get each of them on the floor at one time or another but only when it was necessary. Where Porthos enjoyed a good brawl, particularly if it meant knocking the Red Guard around, Athos would rather put someone in their place with an acerbic word or two.

This new Athos really was not keen on fighting. Aramis had told them the night before that his shooting was improving rapidly. Athos had said that Aramis was exaggerating that he was still missing more than he was hitting the target, but Aramis had seemed pleased. Porthos got the impression that Athos was glad to see Aramis pleased about something.

Porthos and d'Artagnan had decided that although they would continue to try to jog their friend's memory, they would be better off spending their time helping Athos to decide what he would do.

Should he try to remain a soldier? Was he cut out to be a soldier? His enthusiasm and slight improvement in shooting was not enough to convince Porthos. The man himself was a little unsure that he was capable. But as long as he was willing to try they were willing to help him. Even if hand to hand was not his idea of fun.

MMMM

'Watch your feet again, you'll end up tripping,' said D'Artagnan firmly.

It had taken the younger man a little while, but he was treating Athos as he treated the cadets. Athos had said he did not mind. That perhaps he would learn quicker if d'Artagnan did not feel he could not, on occasion berate him for sloppy work.

Athos took the firm tutelage with good grace, he was finding the drills easier as he continued. The work was still difficult, the first day they had spent working on his sword work had left him so physically exhausted he had slept so deeply that it had taken quite a lot for Porthos to shake him awake the following morning.

Now on their second day of working in the secluded spot, Athos was starting to tire already. He could not imagine fighting for days on end in a battle. He was again in awe of the other Musketeers.

They had started to work with the parrying dagger. Athos was finding the main gauche to be a difficult weapon to deal with. Using both arms was confusing. D'Artagnan was taking his swings at him very slowly. Giving him time to react and bring the weapon up. But as the Musketeer had pointed out to him his footwork was now suffering.

It seemed impossible to get everything to work together. The coordination that seemed to come so naturally to his friends just eluded him.

Athos tried to get it right. As d'Artagnan swung the sword again, Athos raised his main gauche, but without really knowing why he ended up lifting his right arm at the same time. Rather than knock d'Artagnan's sword away he ran the main gauche across his right arm.

MMMM

The blade cut through Athos' doublet and sliced into his arm. He gasped and stumbled back, dropping the weapons and grabbing his right arm with his left hand. Athos looked up at d'Artagnan with shock.

'I think we've done enough for today,' said d'Artagnan as he dropped his own sword and grabbed Athos who had become very pale as he stared at his arm.

Blood was seeping between the fingers of his gloved hand. D'Artagnan forced Athos to kneel on the ground, worried that the man might keel over if he did not.

'Let me have a look at the damage,' said d'Artagnan, keeping voice calm.

The old Athos would probably have dealt with the injury himself, at least until they could have a medic look at it. But now Athos seemed to have no idea what to do. D'Artagnan peeled Athos' hand from the injury and pushed his sleeve up. Athos gasped again.

'It's going to need stitches,' concluded d'Artagnan.

He looked up and reached for Athos scarf that the man had taken to wearing again. They had told him that he wore the item frequently. D'Artagnan had wondered if he had put it back on in an attempt to appear more like his old self.

After wrapping the scarf around his forearm d'Artagnan pulled his friend back to his feet. Athos still looked shocked, his silence was a worry. But his next words were even more worrying.

'Stitches? I don't think I want that. Can we just leave it?'

'No, Athos, we can't. I doubt you'll need many and Aramis knows what he's doing. He'll sort you out. But the wound will need looking after.'

Athos did not look convinced.

MMMM

After a slower than usual ride back into Paris, d'Artagnan steered his injured friend into the infirmary after sending one of the stable boys to get Aramis from the armoury.

D'Artagnan helped Athos to take his doublet off before leaving him sat at the table, his injured arm resting on the surface. He collected what Aramis would need to stitch the wound. Athos had barely spoken on the journey back to the garrison and had been holding his injured arm protectively across his chest.

Sadly, d'Artagnan had thought how differently the man was dealing with what was really only a slight injury. The old Athos would have had to be reminded to get the wound dealt with. Aramis would probably have had to bully him into the infirmary. The old Athos would not have been on the point of collapse, as this Athos was.

D'Artagnan had to remind himself that Athos was not the Athos of old. This was a man who had been terrified when he was confronted in the market a few days before.

Now he was sat, shaking slightly at the infirmary table looking very apprehensive.

'It's not a training session without a few injuries,' said Aramis with a smile as he pushed through the door.

Aramis nodded to d'Artagnan as he laid out what would be needed to deal with the injury. D'Artagnan watched as Aramis unwound the temporary bandage and looked at the cut to Athos' arm.

'It's probably only going to need three or four stitches,' he concluded as he reached for a cloth and dipped it in the water d'Artagnan had left on the table.

Athos tried to pull his arm away slightly as Aramis wiped away the blood and cleaned the wound. Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan who moved to stand behind Athos and rested his hands on the injured man's shoulders.

'This will sting a little,' said Aramis with a wry smile as he poured a little alcohol over the wound.

Athos yanked his arm away, tried to stand and yelped at the same time. D'Artagnan grabbed his arm and pushed him back into the chair.

'Sorry,' said Aramis, 'you're not used to it are you?'

'How can you get used to that?' panted Athos with his eyes screwed shut.

'You just do,' replied d'Artagnan as he pushed Athos' arm back towards Aramis.

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis readied a needle.

'Now that it's clean we can put the stitches in,' said Aramis as he threaded the needle.

Athos had managed to get his breathing under control. He opened his eyes in time to see Aramis moving the needle towards his arm.

D'Artagnan had to react quickly to prevent the now unconscious man from falling off the chair.

Athos had passed out.

MMMM


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Aramis was stunned, d'Artagnan looked a little shocked himself. Athos had taken one look at the needle in Aramis' hand and slumped to the side. D'Artagnan had been quick to catch the injured man to prevent him falling to the floor.

'I wasn't expecting that…' said Aramis as he carefully laid the needle down and bent to help d'Artagnan with the limp man.

Aramis was used to Athos being very stubborn when he received stitches. The man was usually able to remain conscious and stoically pretending he was not in pain. But Athos now appeared to find the idea of stitches too much to bear.

They carried him to one of the beds and after settling him Aramis returned to the table and gathered what he would need.

'I really do have to keep reminding myself that he's not...him,' said Aramis unable to hide the melancholy from his voice.

D'Artagnan looked up at him, 'I know, but it's not him. You have to start accepting that.'

Aramis wanted to tell d'Artagnan that he was wrong, wanted to tell them all that they were wrong. Athos was still there somewhere.

Aramis chose not to respond, he settled himself to the task of stitching the wound. After cleaning it again he went to work. Now that Athos was unconscious it did not take him long to put the three stitches in.

After wrapping a bandage around his patient's arm Aramis sat back. He looked at Athos for a few seconds before rising and starting to tidy away the used cloths and water.

'Aramis,' said d'Artagnan, 'you're not helping him by not accepting that he may not recover his memory.'

Aramis had his back to d'Artagnan, he paused his work and sighed.

'I'm not ready to give up on him yet.'

'Neither are we, but we have to accept that we may have to get used to this man. We may have to accept that this is Athos now.'

The man in question moaned and moved his arm. D'Artagnan who had remained by Athos' side stopped him from moving too quickly. Aramis crossed back to them both.

'What happened?' asked Athos as he opened his eyes and focused on them both.

'You passed out,' said d'Artagnan.

'Passed out?' repeated Athos sounding a little surprised.

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis a hint of hope in his eyes. Aramis felt the same, had Athos come back to them? Had his brief spell of unconsciousness acted to reset his memories?

Athos was looking at them both, his surprised expression quickly changed.

'No, I've not remembered...sorry.'

Aramis had to stop himself from sighing. Athos was apologising for being unable to remember who he was. Aramis had been a little too hopeful he realised. He also realised d'Artagnan was watching him. Aramis nodded to him, their differing opinions should not cloud their continued efforts to help Athos.

Aramis wondered if he was being selfish in his wish to keep trying to help Athos.

MMMM

Porthos had listened to them explaining how Athos had passed out when he received his stitches. Before he had lost his memory the thought of Athos passing out would have made Porthos laugh. That was not the case now.

D'Artagnan and Aramis had emerged from the infirmary a few minutes before. Athos had remained where he was under orders from Aramis to rest for a few minutes until he felt recovered enough to join them.

Porthos could tell there had been a disagreement between his friends. Aramis looked a little annoyed with d'Artagnan. Porthos could guess what had caused the issue.

Athos.

'I think we have to accept…'

'Why are you both so keen to give up on him. It's not been that long. There are still things we can try…'

'What?' said Porthos. 'What can we try that we haven't already? The other things that have been suggested, you've dismissed yourself, Aramis.'

Aramis sighed, 'we should keep trying.'

D'Artagnan turned to Aramis, 'we're all suffering with his loss,' he said. 'But we have to face facts, he may be gone for good. He may be gone for months. I don't think it's fair on Athos.'

'Aramis,' said Treville quietly from behind him.

Porthos had not noticed their Captain approach. He laid a hand on Aramis' shoulder before gently pushing him over to the bench by the table and pushing him to sit.

'They're right, we're not giving up on him, but we have to be realistic. And I have a garrison to run. I want to help Athos as much as possible. I think we have to ask him what he wants to do. He may be at the point where he is himself ready to accept that he may not recover his memory. We cannot keep the man in limbo forever.'

Aramis was looking at the ground.

'It's not that we don't want him back, of course, we want him back,' said d'Artagnan taking a step towards Aramis who looked up at him.

Porthos said, 'we're just being practical.'

Aramis shook his head before rising from the bench, 'no, you're giving up on him. And I don't intend to do that.'

Porthos wanted to stop him but Treville shook his head. Aramis walked off, back to the armoury, away from them.

'He'll come around,' said Treville, 'he'll see sense soon enough.'

D'Artagnan looked towards the infirmary, 'it's a bit like he's died, the Athos that we knew is dead.'

'And that is why it's important to try to move on, if nothing else, for the man in there. The man Athos has become,' concluded Treville.

Porthos did not like the conflict that Aramis was causing within their little group, he meant well but his wish to keep trying to help Athos get his memory back was misguided. They had to accept that if his memory was going to come back it would not be because of anything they did. Whilst there was still hope, Porthos knew they had to refocus their efforts to help Athos to learn to be the man he had become, not continue to try to get him back to being the man he was.

MMMM

Aramis knew several routes in and out of the Palace that were not watched by the Red Guard. He could move around relatively easily. He knew it was not unusual for the King's Musketeers to be at the Palace, but he was not on guard duty, he was not scheduled to be there, so he could find himself being questioned if he was found.

Louis had been sleeping soundly throughout his visit with Marguerite. The woman had spent most of her time trying to keep him away from his son. Aramis sometimes wished he could just tell her to leave them alone. Leave him with his son, just for a few minutes. But he knew that would be foolhardy. No one could know what had happened between himself and the Queen.

But even though trying to see the baby was, perhaps, just as stupid, Aramis found that he had to check on the baby as often as he could. The downside was that he had to pay attention to Marguerite to do so. The woman was attractive, and he did, to a certain extent enjoy his time with her, but she was really just a means to an end.

He had left her looking after the still sleeping baby after kissing her with passion and telling her he would see her again soon. She had said she looked forward to it as she brushed hair from his face.

Now he was slipping along a back corridor towards the servant's stairs so that he could slip out and back to the garrison before he was missed. He had kept away from the others for a while. He did not want to say anything he would later regret, he did not want Athos' situation to come between them all. He just wished there was something else he could try.

As he turned the corner onto the stairs he stopped, staring at Milady who was walking up the stairs. A slight look of guilt crossed her face, it was only for a second, but Aramis saw it. He wondered what scheme the woman was planning.

'Well, Aramis,' she said with her usual precise measured tone. 'Another of your liaisons?'

Aramis did not respond, he went to step around her, he did not want to engage in a conversation with her.

'Is Athos well?'

He stopped and stared at her for a second. Did she know? He hoped not. She was just the sort of enemy they did not want to know about Athos' current affliction.

'I've not seen him for a few weeks, you were all away on that long mission and other than that morning when you were sneaking around trying not to be seen he has not been here.'

She either had spies amongst the staff and Red Guard or somehow, she had seen them on their failed visit a few days earlier. Aramis cursed himself for his stupidity in suggesting they bring Athos to the Palace.

'He looked odd,' she said, 'I know something is wrong.'

'Nothing is wrong,' Aramis finally said.

He stepped around her and began to walk down the stairs. He heard her turn and start to follow him, her black dress brushing each step as she did so.

'I could ruin her,' she said. 'She has a good position at the moment, governess to the future King…'

Aramis stopped. Was there anything the woman did not know?

'I don't know what you mean,' he said glancing back at her.

She smiled, 'come now, Aramis, we could play games all day. I know something is wrong with my husband and I think I should be told what it is.'

Aramis turned to go again. He felt her hand on his shoulder, he stopped again and sighed. He knew it was not worth the risk. If something happened to Marguerite he would feel guilty, he was playing with fire as it was with the affair he was having with her.

'He was injured,' Aramis said, 'we were in a skirmish, he was kicked to the head...he's lost all of his memories.'

Milady looked at him, stunned, 'he knows nothing?'

'He doesn't know any of us, he doesn't know himself. And he does not remember you.'

Milady shuffled back slightly, she lay a hand on the railing and steadied herself. Aramis had not seen her looking shocked before. He wondered if, despite the open animosity between her and Athos, if there was still some feeling there. She had loved Athos once and probably still did.

Aramis took a step towards her, worried she may become faint. She looked up at him, the shock in her eyes turning to anger in a heartbeat.

With no warning and totally taking him by surprise, she slapped him hard across the face. His cheek stung where she had hit him. He blinked a few times staring back at her. He did not understand the reaction.

'I should have been told,' she said through clenched teeth. 'I deserved to be told.'

'No, you don't,' replied Aramis as he turned to go, leaving the woman on the stairs.

But she was not finished, she followed him down the stairs her heels loud on the stone.

'I want to help,' she said as she caught him up, 'let me see him, he may recognise me.'

Aramis was a little taken aback by the change in her attitude, she seemed genuinely concerned. She does still love him, Aramis realised.

'We've tried that, we've taken him to all his usual haunts, we've taken him to see all his acquaintances and there is nothing...we are close to accepting that we may not get him back.'

Aramis realised that was the first time he had said that out loud. He wished it had not come to that, but he could not think of anything else to try.

Milady reached up and put two fingers under his chin, lifting his face up to look her in the eyes.

'I may be the shock he needs,' she said.

Aramis could see the concern, the need to help, in her face. He gently took her hand in his.

'We think he is closest in temperament to a time before you. His actions seem to be from a younger man.'

'All the more reason why I might be the catalyst that pulls him back,' she said. 'It's obvious you do not want to give up on him yet. Let me try. I am the villain of the piece am I not? Let me fulfil my part.'

Aramis looked at her for a few seconds before deciding that he was prepared to suffer the wrath of his friends for one last attempt to get their Athos back.

He nodded before turning and continuing down the stairs, this time with Athos' wife at his side.

MMMM

Authors note: I've not written anything with Milady in before, (she is my least favourite character from the series - sorry), I hope I have captured her sufficiently for her little cameo appearance here.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

There had been tension between them since Aramis walked away two days before. Treville had suggested that the marksman needed time to adjust to the possibility that the Athos they had known was gone. Everyone dealt with loss differently, and it seemed that Aramis needed to accept the inevitable in his own time.

Athos had not really known what to do, he felt sorry for Aramis, but Porthos pointed out that it was not his fault. None of what had happened was Athos' fault.

Porthos was sat with d'Artagnan watching as Athos practised another set of drills. Athos had decided that he did not need to practice in private any more. The other members of the garrison all knew what had happened, and he had told them he felt sufficiently confident to remain within the garrison for his training now that he was not a complete novice any more.

Porthos could see that the man had improved a lot under d'Artagnan's guidance, but he was still worse than a lot of the cadets. None of the other Musketeers or cadets said anything. Porthos was affecting his best menacing stare whenever anyone went passed.

His menacing stare changed to one of astonishment when he saw movement at the garrison gate. D'Artagnan looked up from the book he was reading when Porthos nudged him. The younger man almost dropped the book in shock.

Aramis had walked in with Milady de Winter. Athos' wife was walking with her hand hooked over Aramis' arm. They were walking together. She glanced across at them but did not change her expression, it was as if she had not seen them.

D'Artagnan was standing and about to walk across to the marksman and the woman he was escorting, but Porthos grabbed his arm and forced him back down. He had worked out what was going on.

Milady dressed in one of her usual low-cut dresses was being escorted by their friend to Athos. Aramis was taking their friend's estranged wife up to the man who had forgotten he even had a wife. Forgotten he had ever been married and had to condemn the woman to death.

'What's he doing?' said d'Artagnan, unable to hide his anger.

'He said 'e wasn't going to give up, this is 'im not giving up,' replied Porthos.

Aramis and Milady paused a few feet from Athos and waited for him to notice them. Porthos and d'Artagnan watched in silence. Part of Porthos wanted the shock of seeing Milady to be the thing that returned their friend to them. But he also did not want her to be the thing that brought him back.

Athos looked up at them and smiled. They were getting used to how much the man smiled now. Despite his frustrations at not regaining his memories, he had remained a friendly smiling man. Porthos could see that Milady was a little shocked at his demeanour. The man was quite different to the husband she had betrayed and the soldier he had subsequently become. But was he, perhaps similar to the man she had married, before it all went wrong for them?

Milady approached Athos who spoke to her with civility. There was no hint of his usual wariness around her or the downright hatred he occasionally held for her. Athos did not know the woman in front of him. He took her hand graciously. She spoke to him, he nodded a few times then shook his head looking towards Aramis.

They did not need to hear the conversation between Athos and Milady to know what was happening. Aramis' body language told them all they needed to know. Aramis looked down and obviously sighed, his shoulders slumped slightly. Aramis looked defeated.

Athos made a small bow to Milady de Winter who nodded her head in return. She turned from her husband. Aramis looked at Athos and smiled before falling into step with Milady and walking her from the garrison.

Athos watched them go for a few seconds he looked across to Porthos and d'Artagnan and smiled before shaking his head. He did not know the woman that Aramis had brought to see him.

Porthos looked back towards Aramis and Milady who had reached the gate. In an oddly tender move from the woman, she rested her hand on Aramis' arm for a few seconds. They nodded at one another once before she walked away. Aramis remained where he was for a few seconds, hands on hips clearly utterly defeated.

Perhaps the marksman was finally ready to accept that he could not fix their friend? Was Aramis finally ready to accept that the Athos they knew was gone?

MMMM

As Aramis walked over to them it was clear he was upset that his latest attempt to help Athos had failed. He looked at them for a few seconds before he looked down at the ground.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, 'I bumped into her at the Palace...she managed to get the information about him out of me…'

Aramis paused, d'Artagnan could well imagine what the woman had done to persuade Aramis to talk to her. He did not hold it against his brother.

'...she wanted to help. Wanted to try.'

'But it didn't work did it,' said Porthos glancing across to Athos who had gone back to practising his sword strokes.

'No,' said Aramis, 'there was nothing, even she was shocked that he didn't react. I didn't tell him who she was. He thinks she's just an old friend that I hoped he would recognise.'

D'Artagnan looked up as Treville came down the stairs from his office. He joined them at the table reaching across to take the water jug and a cup. He poured himself a cup before turning to watch Athos for a few moments.

'Are you ready to admit that there is nothing else we can do for him?' Treville asked Aramis.

Reluctantly Aramis nodded. D'Artagnan felt sorry for his brother as he finally accepted what they had accepted several days before.

'I've thought hard about what to do about him,' continued Treville, 'if he wants to stay here he will have to earn his keep. He will have to train with the other cadets…'

'You want him to be a cadet?' asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis said sadly, 'he's not a Musketeer is he?'

'The other men will not mind him joining them. I will make sure of that,' said Treville. 'They will accept him as one of them.'

'Are you deciding my fate?' asked Athos, who had walked up to them, slipping his sword into his belt as he did.

'Yes, Athos,' replied Treville, 'but it is up to you what you do. I have suggested that if you want to stay here, you will have to start again, as a cadet. I cannot allow you to be a Musketeer when you are...not.'

Athos looked at them all, 'I understand,' he said, 'and I wanted to thank you all again for helping me, for trying to get the old me back.'

He looked at Aramis, 'that woman, she's my wife isn't she?'

Aramis nodded, 'sorry, it was a bit underhand of me to try that...but…'

'I understand, Aramis, and I am grateful for your efforts. But if I am ready to stop trying, I think you should be as well.'

Aramis nodded.

'I would like to continue training, as a cadet,' continued Athos looking at Treville who nodded his agreement, 'but only if you think I am capable.'

Treville looked towards d'Artagnan.

'You've improved over the last few days, I think you can and will improve further,' he said.

'Good, then that's settled. And whilst I still hope to get my memory back and I know that you will continue to hope as well I would just like to thank you for looking after me these last weeks. I'm a stranger to you.'

'Not any more,' said Porthos, 'you're not quite the same as our Athos but you are still more than welcome to be here and be our friend.'

D'Artagnan watched as Athos face lit up with another broad smile. They were used to the smiles now.

MMMM

The cadets were spread out across the garrison yard meticulously going over drills. D'Artagnan slowly moved amongst them giving words of encouragement and stepping in to correct the men who were erring in their work. Some of the young men were very good. Some were not as good. D'Artagnan still had to put Athos in the not so good category. But he was improving.

Porthos had told d'Artagnan that he had found their friend alone a couple of times, quite late at night going over the drills. Porthos had pretty much ordered their former leader to bed the previous night. The man was trying to better himself constantly, but never got overly frustrated. He was quietly methodical with his work.

D'Artagnan saw a few of the commissioned men returning from guard duty at the Palace. The expected visitors were now ensconced with the King and courtiers and that meant that most of the Musketeers were spending long hours standing guard. D'Artagnan knew how it felt, he also knew that the men would probably welcome a chance to stretch their legs and potentially embarrass a few of the cadets.

He wandered over to the men, Porthos and Aramis were there, joking with a couple of the other men.

'Want some proper sparring partners for 'em?' asked Porthos as d'Artagnan approached.

With a smile, d'Artagnan nodded, 'if you wouldn't mind. It's always good to put those drills into practice.'

The Musketeers wandered up to the cadets. Porthos found a young man of a similar height and build to himself, he had enjoyed putting Marc through his paces with hand to hand combat a few days before. The cadet looked at him with mock disdain as Porthos approached pulling his sword as he did so. Porthos laughed at the cadet who grinned back with good humour.

Aramis walked up to Athos who greeted him enthusiastically. D'Artagnan was pleased to finally see Aramis treating Athos normally again. As normally as could be expected. They were not trying to get him back to how he was anymore. But they still treated him as one of their group, despite him being a bit unsure of himself still. Their natural pecking order had changed. D'Artagnan was no longer thought of as the newest of the four. Athos had taken the role with aplomb making jokes about it frequently.

It had only been a few days since Aramis had finally been convinced to let Athos be who he now was but already the four of them seemed to be settling down again.

The men made their salutes and prepared to spar. D'Artagnan continued to walk along the ranks nodding his approval and calling out to the cadets to raise their heads or watch their footwork. The sparring was cordial and considered. The commissioned men were taking their time, almost indicating their moves before they made them, to give the cadets a chance to parry or sidestep. As the sparring continued the Musketeers would not make their moves as obvious, they had all been cadets, they knew what it was like to face a superior swordsman.

MMMM

Aramis stepped forward with an obvious thrust expecting Athos to step aside, instead he stepped in and forced the sword away with his parrying dagger, leaving Aramis to go on the defensive.

'Very good,' remarked Aramis with a nod of approval.

'I'm getting better aren't I, I know I'm still not a patch on some of the men but I know it's better than it was,' said Athos as they retook their places.

They saluted again, Aramis tried another attack which was again easily deflected with Athos getting himself into a good position to force Aramis either to the side or to the floor.

'Try a bit faster?' asked Athos.

Aramis nodded. He did as he was asked and found the sword thrust again dealt with. Rather than stopping he pulled back and attacked again. Forcing Athos to be defences for several seconds. Athos' moves were still quite regimented but every now and then a little twist of a sword or shuffle of his feet, which was not part of the drills, was employed to improve Athos' fight. Aramis pressed on, forcing Athos back a few paces before allowing himself to be pushed back, defending himself with ease and watching Athos' moves with interest.

This new Athos was learning fast, he must have picked up moves from d'Artagnan. What he was doing was not all from the training, he was adding his own flourish. Aramis had to move quickly a few times to evade a sword strike.

After another few minutes of sparring, Aramis realised his opponent was not using moves that d'Artagnan had taught him. Athos was using moves that he had taught to d'Artagnan. The four of them had been together long enough now, had sparred and fought side by side enough to know each other's styles. They frequently used the knowledge to their advantage when having friendly sparring sessions.

The way Athos was now fighting, whilst not perhaps to the same speed as he had been, was how he had fought before the accident. Before his memory loss. This was not d'Artagnan's influence.

Aramis started to push Athos to work faster, to think quicker, to react with the speed of a trained, commissioned, superior swordsman.

MMMM

Porthos laughed as Marc tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the floor. For effect, Porthos pressed his sword tip into the young man's chest.

'You, my friend, are very dead...now get up and we'll try it again. Your footwork is awful. But your sword strikes are good.'

Porthos stepped forward and held out his hand. As Marc took the offered help up he looked across to the two men sparring to his right. Porthos followed his gaze.

Athos and Aramis were no longer making simple structured moves against each other. They were no longer slowly stepping into each sword thrust or parry. His friends were engaged in a sword fight. They were no longer sparring. What Aramis was doing was forcing Athos to defend himself. Aramis looked determined as he pressed forward, forcing Athos back. Athos, in turn, was making Aramis work in his attempt to disarm him. The two men were moving quicker than any of the other sparring cadets and Musketeers.

'Come on,' called Aramis, 'disarm me. Get on with it.'

Athos looked angry, he was starting to fight back. He was not simply defending himself he was giving as good as he got. To Porthos' astonishment, the workmanlike sword strikes that Athos had been using were now gone. The man was fighting well, with ease and precision, he was making Aramis move, he was beginning to take control of the fight. He was forcing Aramis to go on the defensive.

'Get me on the floor, you can't do it can you…' said Aramis between strikes.

Both men were breathing hard, but they continued to fight. Porthos realised the other sparring men had stopped and were all watching, stepping back as the enthusiastic pair forced each other to move around.

Athos was the better man in the fight. Athos was the superior swordsman.

MMMM

D'Artagnan took a couple of paces forward, his hand on his own sword. Athos and Aramis were now the only men fighting. They were not sparring, they were fighting each other. It was not a friendly match, this was no game of one-upmanship. This was a fight that both men wanted to win.

Athos looked angry. Aramis looked determined.

Aramis forced Athos back against the wall. Undeterred Athos grabbed a bucket and threw it at Aramis who knocked it way. The distraction enough for Athos to go back on the defensive, stepping forward and thrusting at the same time. Dancing out of the way and parrying with an ease that took years of practice.

Athos was fighting as he had done before. Before they had lost the old Athos before the strange new Athos had come into their lives. The style was Athos, the determined look was Athos, the man fighting was Athos.

The men watching were forced to step back as the fight raged on. Aramis was making small mistakes as the fatigue started to set in. Athos seemed to have noticed and pressed his advantage over the marksman further. Athos wanted to win. D'Artagnan wondered if Athos needed to win, to show them all that he could fight as well, better than, any of them.

Aramis made a mistake that Athos took full advantage of. He twisted his sword around Aramis' forcing it from his hand. At the same time, he stepped in close, hooking his foot around Aramis ankle tripping him. Aramis landed hard, dust thrown up by his impact on the ground.

Some of the men had been shouting at Athos and Aramis, a mixture of encouragement and shock at the ferocity of their fight. A silence fell across the garrison yard.

Without noticing the change in the atmosphere around him Athos raised his sword he was ready to bring it down on Aramis who stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes. D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis realised what he had done, goaded his own friend to the point that he was about to kill him.

Everyone in the garrison could see that Athos meant to kill Aramis.

Athos brought his sword down over the helpless man sprawled on the floor at his feet.

MMMM

 **Authors note: I can't bring myself to just put the next chapter up straight away. I love a cliff-hanger. I will leave you to mull this over for a few hours. You can have the next chapter later today.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Authors note: Gosh, so many comments about how generally mean I am. Sigh…** **I am a bit mean at the end of this chapter as well – and you have to wait until tomorrow (UK time) for the penultimate chapter.**

Chapter Thirteen

The men had swarmed them from all sides. It surprised Athos that they had been taken by surprise. He counted eight men before he was forced to focus on the two men who had confronted him. He heard two gunshots, hoping that the noise meant that the odds had been evened out a little Athos concentrated on the men in front of him.

 _But there was only one man fighting him. Where was the other?_

Porthos was facing two men, he was in a dangerous position; his back to the river on uneven ground. D'Artagnan was behind him, he could not see the younger man. Athos suspected he was responsible for one of the gunshots, had he hit his mark? Aramis was fighting a large man who was making him work, forcing him to move away from firm sword strokes.

 _Athos wanted to finish off his opponents and help his brothers._

The man in front of him was goading him into trying to beat him. Athos fought the man harder and faster.

'Come on,' called his opponent, 'disarm me. Get on with it.'

He had to finish off the man forcing him to fight, he had to help the others. They were all capable, but none of them would begrudge his help.

'Get me on the floor, you can't do it, can you…'

 _Help his brothers._

The man was breathing hard, he was tiring, Athos knew he had to take advantage. He twisted his sword around his opponents, forcing it from his hand. He stepped in close and tripped the man to the floor.

 _Kill the man and help his brothers…_

MMMM

Porthos watched horrified as Athos went in for the kill. He knew that was what Athos intended to do. He had seen it before; in battle.

In battle, they killed men because they had to. They fought the enemy it was kill or be killed, they had no choice. They were ordered to advance they were told what to do. They were soldiers. Nobody liked killing enemy combatants, but it was the life they had chosen. Keeping the peace and protecting the King and their country sometimes meant killing other people.

But Porthos had never expected to see Athos about to kill his friend, in the garrison yard in front of the regiment. Porthos had never expected to see the Athos they had come to know over the past weeks kill anyone. This Athos, Porthos was fairly sure would find the act of killing a man to be the most difficult part of soldiering. They had talked about it, he had asked them what it was like to take a life, he had paled and looked ill as they had described some of the more intense battles where the men they killed were right in front of them.

Right in front of them as Aramis was now in front of Athos, lying on the floor with no weapon. Defenceless. Aramis was staring up at Athos, at his sword. Aramis appeared to have become frozen with the fear and knowledge of what his goading had led to. Porthos wondered if Aramis regretted what he had done. He was sure Aramis did not want to die but knowing the marksman Porthos suspected Aramis would be feeling pity for pushing Athos to the point that he was now at.

The sword caught a glint of light reflected from the late afternoon sun as he began to swing it towards Aramis. It had all happened so quickly. One minute the two men were fighting each other with force the next Aramis was on the floor, defenceless and about to be killed by one of his best friends.

The garrison was silent, Porthos was sure he heard the swoop of the blade as it travelled with speed through the air towards Aramis' neck. Aramis would probably not die straight away from the wound, he would bleed to death quickly, but his death would not be instant. The sword would probably cut into his neck and leave him gasping on the garrison floor a pool of blood forming under him. Porthos had seen people die like that before. He did not want to see his best friend die in the same way. They were soldiers, they should die in battle, not at the hands of their friends.

Porthos was about to see one of his best friends killed by another.

The sword stopped a fraction of an inch from the neck of its intended victim. The near silence in the yard continued, the silence was broken only by the gasped panted breathes of the two men in the centre of the yard.

The man on the floor staring at the man who had just stopped himself short of killing him. Aramis was staring at Athos. Athos stared back at Aramis.

Athos blinked a couple of times. He looked around himself, his eyes were unfocused. Athos stepped back a couple of paces, stumbled steps, uncoordinated steps. The sword dropped from his hand harmlessly hitting the ground a couple of feet from its target. Aramis did not move, he continued to breathe hard watching Athos.

Porthos moved forward, slowly at first before quickening his pace as he sensed what was going to happen. He reached Athos just as his knees buckled. The man would have crashed to the ground had Porthos not caught him and held him up. He was not unconscious, but his head was bowed, he was still breathing fast. He was heavy, almost limp in Porthos' arms.

Porthos managed to guide Athos across the yard to the bench, Athos took shuffled steps, it was as if he was drunk. But Porthos knew that was not the case. He did not know what was wrong with his friend. The other men moved out of the way for them. He pushed Athos onto the bench. The man leaned forward, head down still breathing hard. Some of the other men moved closer. Porthos looked up and shook his head with a warning glare. The men stepped back, unsure what to do. Unsure what was expected.

MMMM

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos led a very confused looking Athos away, across the yard. The man looked weak, on the point of collapse. None of the other men spoke, they stared dumbfounded at Athos and Porthos, then back at Aramis who was still lying on the ground watching his friends.

D'Artagnan pushed his way through the crowd of men and walked up to Aramis who refocused his attention on him. D'Artagnan could not work out if Aramis looked shocked or regretful, perhaps it was a mixture of both? Bending down behind Aramis, d'Artagnan hooked his arms under the marksman's and hauled him to his feet. Aramis wavered once before finding his balance, his eyes on Athos and Porthos the entire time.

Some of the men had started to murmur and shift self-consciously. Nobody knew what to do.

The rapid sound of boots on the wood of the stairs drew their attention. Aramis managed to look away from Athos towards the approaching Treville.

The Captain looked livid. He was not a happy man.

'What the hell was that,' he yelled as he walked up to Aramis.

D'Artagnan took a couple of steps back without realising it. He did not want to put himself in the firing line of the Captain's wrath, although it appeared to be well and truly aimed at Aramis.

'What were you thinking? You could have been killed.'

Treville grabbed Aramis by the collar of his doublet and dragged him closer. Aramis looked a little shocked at the move.

'You know he's not ready for that kind of pressure. The man has only a few days of training in him. We're surprised at how well he's doing but he could have killed you.'

Aramis glanced across to Athos and Porthos. D'Artagnan could see that Porthos was not looking back and Athos still had his head down. Porthos was crouched in front of their friend talking to him quietly, d'Artagnan guessed that Porthos was trying to get Athos to calm his breathing.

'You've still not got it, have you? That man is not Athos. Not the Athos you know. You cannot push him, you don't know what he's capable of yet. If he had killed you, what do you think that would have done to him?' Treville paused. 'You would be dead, and we would be left to deal with it. You're an imbecile. I've told you to drop it, to leave him be...but you just can't can you?'

Aramis refocused on Treville. He opened his mouth to respond but the man who always had a witty come back could not find any words at that moment. Aramis again looked back at Athos.

'I am not going to let you get away with this,' continued Treville, shaking Aramis to get him to look back at him, Treville's anger was making him red-faced, 'just because you are one of my best men, does not mean you will get off lightly.'

D'Artagnan wanted to say something, wanted to defend his brother, but found that he could not. What Aramis had done was wrong. Athos was not ready for a full-on fight. D'Artagnan had to agree with the Captain, Athos was not ready, and Aramis should not have pushed him.

'You are going to be lucky to just get away with a flogging,' said Treville, a few of the other men looked at each other. Treville rarely dished out corporal punishment and the thought of one of his best men being flogged was sobering.

'I may have you stripped of your commission for this,' finished Treville.

D'Artagnan had not seen Treville that angry often. It was not pleasant. Treville released Aramis shoving him with force toward Marc and another cadet.

'Take his weapons and lock him in his room, see that he does not leave.'

The two cadets did not move.

'NOW!'

After Treville screamed at them to move, they did, pushing a compliant Aramis ahead of them towards the sleeping quarters.

Aramis glanced across to Athos and Porthos again. D'Artagnan got the impression he was more concerned with Athos than himself and the punishment he now faced. Aramis looked despondent again.

As he was walked passed the other men some of them made disparaging remarks to him. Aramis looked down, not making eye contact with anyone. D'Artagnan watched until his friend was taken out of sight by the two cadets, who still both looked stunned by the turn of events.

'Away with you,' said Treville, 'find someplace else to be. Move.'

The other men started to move away, some left the garrison. A couple of the commissioned men shepherded a group of the cadets to the firing range. The men knew they just needed to disappear from Treville's sight for a while until their Captain had calmed down.

MMMM

Porthos looked up as a rather pale d'Artagnan joined him and the still panting Athos.

'Treville's going to have Aramis flogged,' he stated.

Porthos had not really been paying attention to what had been going on behind him. His focus had been on Athos who was close to passing out due to his quick breaths. Porthos had spent the last few minutes encouraging Athos to calm his breathing down.

He looked up at d'Artagnan unable to hide the shock and surprise on his face.

'Why did he do it?' asked Porthos, 'Aramis knows what Athos' capable of? Why'd he push him so hard? Forcing him to defend himself like that.'

D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders, 'I don't know what got into him. He didn't say anything. He just let the cadets take him up to your room and lock him in...Treville's serious about having him flogged and he said he might strip him of his commission.'

Porthos was shocked, it was one thing to punish Aramis for what he had done, despite not approving of corporal punishment Porthos did agree that Aramis needed to be punished, but to take his commission from him? Porthos could not imagine Aramis being anything other than a soldier, a Musketeer.

Treville was still shouting at the other men and yelling at the stable boys to get back to work.

D'Artagnan looked down at Athos who seemed to have finally got his breathing under control.

'Is he alright?' he asked.

Porthos looked back at Athos, 'I don't know, he's not said anything.'

Athos managed to look up at them both, he was pale and shaking slightly. Porthos stood up and moved to pour him a drink of water, he handed the cup to him before sitting next to him on the bench.

'You with us Athos?' asked Porthos.

Athos took a few sips of the water, looking across the now empty yard. Treville was stood with his back to them watching the last of the men disappearing.

When Athos responded to Porthos it shocked both him and d'Artagnan.

'I have my memory back.'

MMMM


	14. Chapter 14

**Authors note: My word, you are all rather worried about Aramis, aren't you! I mentioned in the authors notes at the start of Chapter One that there was going to be a cliché…**

Chapter Fourteen

'I have my memory back.'

Porthos stared at Athos for a few seconds, d'Artagnan took a step back in shock.

'What?' they both said.

Athos looked at them each in turn.

'I believe that was Aramis' plan. I do not think he thought it would work. But you know how keen he was to try to help me.'

Porthos continued to stare at Athos, 'how did you...when did you?'

D'Artagnan spoke at the same time, 'when did it come back?'

Athos thought for a moment, 'it was bursts. As we fought, flashes of memory kept falling into place. The harder I fought back the more returned to me. It was,' Athos paused for a second, 'frightening. I think I did not really comprehend who I was fighting with.'

'What made you stop? You were very close to killing him,' asked d'Artagnan.

'The last memory to fall into place...was of you three. Until that point, I did not know who Aramis was. I think in the moment I had even forgotten these past days.'

Athos was still shaking slightly, he was pale and looked a little unfocused. Porthos concluded that getting a lifetimes worth of memories back in the space of a few minutes would probably be a little overwhelming. Porthos had to admit he felt a little overwhelmed himself. A lot had happened very quickly. Aramis had nearly been killed and now faced a flogging and possible dismissal and their friend had regained his memory after days of not knowing who he was.

'Where is Aramis?' asked Athos. 'Was he hurt?'

'No,' replied d'Artagnan, 'but the Captain was not particularly happy with his actions. He's been locked in his room for now, pending punishment.'

Athos looked shocked, 'but that is not right, he...helped me. I know his method was perhaps wrong, but it worked. I am sure he knew what he was doing. This,' Athos pointed at himself, 'must have been the result he hoped for.'

They looked up as Treville walked over to them.

'Athos, you are not going to be held accountable for what happened. Aramis was the one in the wrong. He went too far. You should not have been put under that kind of pressure in a sparring session. I don't know what came over him but be assured I am going to see him punished for what he did. I can't imagine what you must feel like, having been put in that position.'

Athos rose from his seat on the bench. Porthos stood at the same time, his hand hovering behind his friends back, worried the man might not be ready to be supporting himself yet.

'Captain,' said Athos, 'I would like you to reconsider. What Aramis did was indeed a dangerous thing, that could have ended badly. But what he did has restored me to...myself.'

It was now Trevilles turn to stare at Athos.

'Your memory?'

'Restored.'

'But he...you might have killed him…'

Athos sighed, 'I know, and I will be having a word with him about that, trust me. But please Captain, I would like you to reconsider any punishment. He meant well, it perhaps did not turn out quite as he planned, but it worked.'

Porthos watched as the Captain thought about what had happened. He looked towards the sleeping quarters where Aramis was now awaiting his punishment. He looked back at Athos.

'I'm still very angry at what he did. It was reckless and irresponsible and did not set a good example to the other men,' he paused. 'I probably would have reconsidered anyway, I was just so angry with him…Athos, you are my lieutenant, I think as it was you who was on the receiving end of his indiscretion, you should decide his fate.'

'Thank you, Captain,' said Athos with a nod.

'But if he has any sense he will keep a low profile for the next couple of weeks. He is not in my good books.'

'Yes, Captain, you will not see him.'

Treville nodded, looking at Athos for a few seconds before stepping forward and grabbing the man in a firm hug. Athos reciprocated.

'It's good to have you back,' said Treville with a smile.

The Captain turned and walked slowly away. They watched him disappear into his office, closing the door behind him.

Athos turned to Porthos and d'Artagnan, 'I think it is time I spoke to Aramis.'

MMMM

Aramis paced around the small room. The two cadets had not really known how to deal with him. When they had reached his room, Aramis undid his weapons belts and handed them to Marc before opening the door himself, he pulled the key from the lock and handed it to the cadet who looked at him.

'You're just doing what you were told to,' he said to them with a sad smile.

Marc took the key and pulled the door closed. Aramis heard the key turn in the lock. He did not hear them retreating, suspecting they were standing just outside the door as they had been ordered by Treville.

He walked to the small window and peered out, he could not really see much of the yard from where he was. He could see men moving away and Treville ordering them out of the yard.

Aramis turned back to the room he crossed to his bed and sat down for a few seconds before getting back up and pacing back and forth. He could not settle. He was too wound up. He knew what he had done was wrong but at the time it had seemed right.

Athos' fighting style had changed slowly but surely as they had sparred. Aramis began to feel he was sparring with Athos. Not the Athos they had come to know, but the Athos from before the accident. The man was moving quickly and cleanly, anticipating moves and surprising Aramis with his actions.

Aramis knew he was not supposed to be trying to get Athos back anymore but the way the man in front of him was fighting Aramis wondered if something had been happening to Athos. Had he been remembering, had something been coming back to the man?

Athos had fought back harder and harder. At the end, Aramis could only defend himself. Aramis had wondered as he started to feel the fatigue setting in if he should not have goaded the man? Then he had made the mistake that had nearly killed him.

Athos, the superior swordsman, had got him on his back and helpless. Aramis had stared at Athos. But Athos did not know him. Athos was unfocused, Aramis suspected that all Athos could see was an enemy combatant. As the sword had swung down towards his neck. Aramis had thrown up a prayer. He wished he could apologise for the pain he was about to cause his brothers by his own stupidity. Athos was going to kill him. Athos, whichever Athos it was, would never forgive himself.

As he paced back and forth in his room Aramis shook his head. How Athos had stopped the swing of the sword he did not know. When the man had partially collapsed Aramis had wanted to get up and help Porthos but the shock of what had just happened prevented him from moving.

And now he was locked in his room awaiting a flogging and worse the prospect of being thrown out of the regiment, out of the Musketeers. And all for nothing. Athos was still not Athos. The stranger that Athos had become was still with them, and Aramis had put the poor man in a horrible position.

Aramis hoped he would be able to apologise to his brothers, to Athos, before he was dismissed.

The flogging did not matter to him. It would be humiliating and would be painful, but he had been shot and stabbed and suffered sword wounds before. What Aramis hated the most was that he had let his brothers down. He should not have carried on with his selfish need to get Athos back.

He could hear a quiet conversation outside the door. Aramis was surprised that his punishment was to happen so quickly. He looked down at his hands and realised he was shaking, perhaps he was a little apprehensive about the flogging after all?

The key turned in the lock and the door was pushed open. Aramis was surprised to see Athos standing in the doorway, the cadets having been dismissed. Athos did not look happy.

'Are you alright?' asked Aramis, unable to help himself, 'I'm sorry. I...I thought it might help you...you were fighting like...yourself...your old self...I thought if I,' Aramis paused looking at the floor.

Athos sighed before saying, 'how typical of you, Aramis. You have been locked up facing a possible flogging and the prospect of being dismissed and yet you are more interested in my well-being than your own. Do you ever put yourself first?'

Aramis looked up, staring at Athos. Several thoughts whirled through Aramis' mind. The man in front of him sounded like Athos. Not the man they had grown to know over the last few days, but the Athos from before. The Athos that Aramis wanted back.

Aramis could not help himself he took a couple of steps forward and grabbed Athos, pulling him in for a hug. Athos grabbed him back for a few seconds before pushing him away firmly.

'You have just come this close to being flogged and losing your commission,' said Athos holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger almost pressed together.

Aramis could not work out what to say. He was shocked. His misguided plan had worked. He blinked a couple of times. Athos grabbed his arm and pushed him across the room to sit on his bed before stepping back a couple of paces.

'That was a really stupid thing to do...I nearly killed you, Aramis,' said Athos shaking his head.

'I'm sorry,' Aramis managed to say as he got his composure back after the shock of seeing his brother restored to him. 'But it worked.'

Athos rolled his eyes, 'what if it had not?'

Aramis could not answer the question, he had thought it had not worked. But he realised that if it had not worked, he would now have been dead.

'Now, Treville is angry. He is only letting you off a punishment because I asked him to. I would recommend you steer clear of our Captain for the next few days.'

Aramis managed to nod, 'thank you,' he said looking up.

'Thank you,' replied Athos with a wry smile.

MMMM

The busy tavern was a welcome distraction for Athos. After the events of the fight had calmed down and Aramis had been liberated from his room, Athos suggested they adjourn to his favourite tavern where he intended to treat them to dinner and wine.

They had found a table and after collecting a bottle and four cups Athos had proposed a toast. His toast was to friendship and not giving up on each other. Porthos had slapped Aramis on the shoulder as he had taken his drink causing him to splutter the drink.

After glowering at his friend for a second Aramis turned to Athos.

'How are you feeling now?' he asked.

Athos knew he had been a bit quiet around his friends since his memories had returned to him. It had taken him some time to process all that had happened. He had felt bombarded with a build-up of thoughts, it had been as if the days he had missed had needed to be filled in within his mind. He remembered all that had happened from when he regained consciousness after the skirmish, but the memories seemed to be layered. Since he had come back to himself he had spent time going over all that had happened, remembering how it had felt to see his rooms, and the Palace, to see his wife, as if for the first time.

His brothers had offered to give him some time to himself, but he had insisted that he needed to properly thank them for looking after him when he had been suffering.

'Your other self,' said Porthos, 'he was not keen on fist fighting.'

Athos knew he was going to have to put up with a lot of teasing from his brothers for a while, but he was going to take it with good grace.

'I remember that you went very easy on me,' replied Athos, 'you pulled your punches and allowed me to get some strikes in.'

Porthos laughed, 'yeah, but you were a little delicate for a bit.'

Athos smirked and shook his head, 'well now I am back and perhaps we can even the score soon.'

'You can try.'

Athos turned to d'Artagnan, 'don't start on me,' said the younger man. 'You were awful with the sword, honestly, if you weren't...you...I don't think we would have kept you on as a cadet.'

'I think,' said Athos, 'that I had reverted to how I was when I was younger. I was a bit of a... romantic back then...before…' he paused and looked away.

Aramis leaned forward, 'we thought that might have been the case...I'm sorry about bringing her to see you.'

'I know you meant well, Aramis...as did she it seemed,' replied Athos quietly.

Aramis nodded with a smile.

After a few more minutes of gentle teasing Aramis and Porthos rose from the table. Porthos headed to the bar for more wine whilst Aramis disappeared outside.

Athos watched Aramis walk from the tavern, 'I really, nearly killed him,' he remarked.

'Your improvement in sword fighting was very rapid,' observed d'Artagnan as he tried to lighten the mood. 'But you took us all by surprise when you started fighting back.'

Athos looked back at d'Artagnan, 'you were a good teacher.'

'Only because you taught me well,' replied d'Artagnan.

Porthos returned and refilled their cups, 'about this rematch we're gonna have,' he said.

'Porthos,' said Athos with a roll of his eyes, 'I will submit here and now that you are the better man at hand to hand combat.'

'Good,' nodded Porthos, 'I would not want to see you hurt.'

They continued to talk and discuss Athos' recent training and what he had felt during his time without memories. Athos realised it was probably one of the few times he was quite talkative with his brothers. But he did not mind, he was enjoying being back with them.

MMMM

As Aramis walked back to the tavern door he smiled to himself, despite the near fatal method he had used, Athos was back with them. This was a good evening to be out with his brothers.

The past weeks had been difficult for them all. And now it was over, although Aramis knew he would have to be careful around Treville for a few days, but that was a small price to pay.

As he reached for the door to the tavern he was grabbed from behind by a burly man who clamped his hand over Aramis' mouth preventing him from shouting out. Aramis tried to pull free of his attacker, but the man was strong. He tried to kick out but found his legs grabbed by a second man.

Suddenly, Aramis' evening was not going as well as it had been.

MMMM

 **Authors note: sorry I could not resist a little sting in the tail. The last chapter will go up later today.**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Athos glanced towards the door of the tavern. Aramis was taking his time, he thought wondering if he had perhaps bumped into one of the serving girls and was charming more wine from her. He turned back to Porthos and d'Artagnan who were still enjoying teasing him about his different persona over the last weeks.

When the memories had all come crashing back to him, he had been so overwhelmed he had nearly passed out, it had felt like the worst morning after a heavy night drinking he had ever experienced. The memories took a few minutes to order themselves. Although he would be forever grateful that the memories of his brothers fell into place when they did. The image of Aramis' shocked expression would probably haunt him for some time. Although he had no intention of punishing Aramis for his misguided method of helping him, he did intend to remind him about it frequently.

'When you first became a soldier,' asked d'Artagnan with a barely disguised grin, 'did you struggle with the sword then?'

Athos rolled his eyes again, 'I think I was reasonable. I am not sure why my swordsmanship was so poor.'

'You're shootin' weren't that good either,' said Porthos with a laugh.

'But it improved rapidly,' remarked Athos, 'and I am armed now.'

Athos gave Porthos a pointed look causing the Musketeer to laugh loudly.

'If you will excuse me, gentlemen,' said Athos as he rose from the table.

Athos was a little concerned with the length of time Aramis was taking. But he did not want to appear foolish by mentioning it to Porthos and d'Artagnan. There was probably a simple explanation, but something made Athos want to be sure.

He reached the door and stepped out. The street was not busy, it was late into the evening. He glanced along the side of the building where most of the patrons went to relieve themselves. One of the shop owners that Athos was acquainted with was walking back, tucking his shirt in as he walked.

'I seem to have lost one of my men,' said Athos, trying to keep any worry from his voice, 'he's not still down there is he?'

'Ain't nobody down there, I passed a soldier on me way out. He was on 'is way back when I saw 'im,' said the man as he opened the door to the tavern.

Deciding that being concerned for his friend was reasonable now, Athos stepped further into the road. He could see a couple of whores a few yards away tempting a man into their room and a few men walking away in the distance. There was no sign of Aramis.

A dull thud followed by the sound of metal on stone drew his attention across the road to a dimly lit alleyway opposite him. He cautiously walked forward, hoping he was not going to find anything untoward, but suspecting he would.

Two men were stood with their backs to him, one was big and broad, built like a brawler. The second was a little younger, both looked as though they had lived on the edges of society for some time.

The burly man was leaning forward with his hands pressed against the wall in front of him, he was kicking at someone on the ground. The second man had one foot out pressing down, holding their victim in place.

Athos realised he recognised the men. They were the ones that had tried to attack him when his brothers were walking him around the city in the hope that he would recognise something.

Athos knew it was Aramis who was being held down and kicked. He did not need to see the shape on the floor clearly to know. He remembered seeing the bigger of the men glare at Aramis after the marksman had given him a couple of slight injuries during the earlier affray. The men must have seen the marksman alone outside the tavern and grabbed him.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself Athos walked up behind the man who had his foot on the back of Aramis' shoulders, holding him down. The marksman must have been pushed into the wall and fallen, Athos guessed that as he tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees the younger of the two attackers and stamped down on his shoulders forcing him back to the ground, giving the bigger man an easy target for their revenge.

Athos grabbed the man around the arms and twisted him away, throwing him forcefully to the floor. The man sprawled on the ground, smacking his head into the cobbles.

The other man turned to Athos and pulled a sword from his belt. Athos did not hesitate in drawing his own weapon in kind.

Athos glanced across to Aramis who was still by the wall, he had managed to push himself over and was watching with slightly unfocused eyes. At least he was still conscious, thought Athos, although he did not look capable of joining him in dealing with the two attackers.

They were fighting in close quarters, but not so close that Athos would have to resort to fighting hand to hand. They clashed swords, Athos managed to move the burly man away from Aramis who was trying to push himself up to sit, he was clutching at his arm and had blood trickling down his face from a wound on his forehead.

The younger man was getting back to his feet. After a few seconds, he turned to Athos and drew his own sword ready to join the fight. Athos had no problem dealing with the two men. They were ill-trained, lacking discipline in their movements. But they were wily. Rather than standing and fighting side by side, they split up. Athos knew it was a tactic to return the threat to the injured man on the ground, an attempt to distract Athos. But Athos was not going to fall for it, he twisted around and put himself back into a good position to fight the two men together. It did leave Aramis vulnerable, but Athos could keep the two men focused on himself until they made a mistake that he could take advantage of.

MMMM

Aramis knew that when the fight was over, he was going to have to put up with some teasing of his own. To be grabbed so easily was embarrassing. He had been distracted with his feelings of relief that they had Athos back. The two men, who he had recognised as the ones he had seen off in the market had dragged him across the road and into the alleyway. The big man had thrown him with force into the wall, causing him to bang his head into the stone. Disorientated he had fallen to the floor. He could hear the men laughing at him. He had tried to get up but was stamped on. His shoulders pushed back to the ground.

The way he had landed meant that his left arm had taken the brunt of the first few kicks. He did not think any bones were broken, but he knew he was in no state to retaliate. He had been relieved when Athos had shown up, dragging the man who was pinning him down away before taking on the big man.

Slowly, painfully, Aramis had managed to push himself up to sit, leaning against the wall holding his left arm protectively. He wanted to help Athos but knew he could not. He was fairly sure he would be lucky to even stand at that particular moment.

Athos was most definitely back to his usual self. He kept the two men at bay, he moved around with ease, he could see their tactics and anticipated them. If he was not in pain Aramis would have found the spectacle a joy to watch.

A shout from the direction of the tavern distracted the two men. Porthos and d'Artagnan appeared at a run. Both men had their guns drawn.

The two attackers looked back at the unwelcome reinforcements before turning back to Athos. Athos took a step forward, the two men ran, disappearing along the alleyway, their hasty retreat echoing along the quiet streets.

MMMM

Athos paid the men no further attention. He decided that if they wanted another go he would be happy to finish the fight. He crouched down in front of Aramis who had managed to sit up, although he was pale, blinking and shaking.

'I think,' he said as he reached out his hand to help the marksman up, 'that we have both made some new enemies.'

Aramis managed a pained smile as he got to his feet. Porthos was by his side, an arm already around the marksman's waist supporting him. D'Artagnan was watching along the alleyway for any sign of the attackers returning.

'Sorry to have spoiled your first evening back,' Aramis said.

'It was good to get back to normality, even if it has come at a cost to you,' replied Athos with a slight smile.

'I'm fine,' replied the marksman before obviously wavering, causing Porthos to tighten his grip on his friend.

D'Artagnan who had returned to them looked Aramis up and down for a second and said with a sigh, 'you have a cut to your head and you're holding your arm...I don't think you're fine Aramis.'

Aramis tried to push away from Porthos to stand on his own but failed miserably. Athos had to hide his amusement as Aramis gave up the pretence and allowed Porthos to pull his uninjured arm over his shoulder. Aramis already had bruises forming on his face and was holding his left arm protective across his chest. His breathing was a little shallow, Athos wondered if the man might have received some kicks to the ribs during the assault.

'Back to the garrison with you,' said Athos, he wanted to be sure Aramis was not hiding any more serious injuries.

'Really it's nothing…'

Athos glared at Aramis. D'Artagnan laughed. Both men looked at him.

'It didn't take you two long to revert to normality, Athos is in charge, and Aramis is trying to convince us all that nothing is wrong.'

Aramis had the good sense to not reply again. Porthos was having to hold the still slightly unfocused man up. D'Artagnan felt along Aramis arm earning him a few hissed expletives and several insistent assurances that he was merely bruised. Athos handed d'Artagnan his scarf which the Musketeer used as a makeshift bandage for the cut to the marksman's head.

Athos shook his head, Aramis was a sorry sight, his doublet was dirty and dishevelled, his weapons belts had become twisted, and he could not walk unaided.

After collecting Aramis' hat, Athos led the way back along the streets towards the garrison. He could not help a smile, when he knew that none of his brothers were watching him. He had lost a few days, but he had not lost their care and love. The three men walking behind him had been there for him throughout his time injured. They had worked to get him back to normal, and they had succeeded.

He listened to them as he walked. Aramis was complaining that he was now bruised and battered and that none of the ladies would want him. D'Artagnan was worried that he was going to be late for his liaison with Constance that night. Porthos wanted to get to a card game he knew was happening across the city.

Athos was pleased that their lives, which never failed to bring surprises and trouble could also, on occasion, have some semblance of normality to them.

The End

 **Authors note: Thank you all for your fabulous reviews. This is the longest piece I've ever written so your comments were greatly appreciated. Em. x**


End file.
